Resolve
by KNO
Summary: Alternate Universe. Ino Yamanaka is lost. The life she lives is perfect. Ino couldn't help but differ. She is lost and she doesn't know how to get back, or even where she was going in the first place. With help, Ino will find herself, and her place.
1. Satellite Mind

_I don't do Ino studies much. I've wanted to write for her before, but the ideas I've received were sub-par._

_This, however, is an exception. :) And, this is my fiftieth published story! YAY!!!!!!! Milestone!_

_I hope you enjoy._

_Also, more tidbits of info: This was going to be a one-shot. Did it turn out that way? Of course not. Obviously, the alternative is to do chapters. Yippee._

_Another thing, the song you see below is the one that goes with this chapter. For each new chapter, I will have a different song. They are the chapter titles, after all. XD_

_Since I ran out of room in the summary box, these are the warnings for this new Fic: Language (ha, as usual), themes of suicide, themes of depression, themes of eating disorders, some mild alcohol consumption. . . Yeah. I'll just warn you along the way, how's that?_

_:)_

_Okay. You can read now._

**Song:** Satellite Mind by Metric.

**Disclaimer:** Kishimoto owns because he is simply amazing. :) And you know, he came up with everything.

* * *

_Un._

It was a cutthroat world she resided in.

People would gossip about you as soon as see your face, their stories spun on a whim and usually untrue.

Ino ignored all of it.

Or, at least, she tried to.

-

Modeling had its benefits and its disadvantages.

Perk: Mingling with some of the hottest and most successful people this side of the Atlantic.

Disadvantage: Sticking your tongue down the throats of some of the scumbags of the earth to get there.

Perk: After-parties.

Disadvantage: Communicable diseases.

Perk: The clothes.

Disadvantage: Getting caught with the articles you weren't allowed to take.

The list goes on.

But despite the advantages and consequences, Ino still enjoyed what she did.

Walking down that runway in these interesting and empowering clothes was all Ino needed.

She required no boyfriend to make her feel good, no best friend to divulge her secrets to, no family to support her.

Ino made those things happen all by herself.

She was her own form of comfort and secret keeper and sustentation.

She didn't need anyone but herself.

And of that she was convinced.

-

_Paris is cold._

Ino huddled outside, waiting for a cab to be hailed.

Her coat was warm enough, but she had forgotten her gloves, and her fingers were threatening to fall off.

Finally, the outside attendant succeeded in his cab hailing, and one pulled up to the curb, Ino quickly sliding inside.

After telling the address and noting that they were moving, Ino settled back into the wide seat.

She had been here all of two days and already she was working.

Ino exhaled, watching the cars whiz by them.

In the distance, she could see the Arc de Triomphe, looming bulkily over the wide street of the Champs-Elysees.(1)

Disappointed, Ino frowned, seeing her reflection in the glass.

She rarely got the time to sightsee. Modeling commanded almost all of her time, and even in the time she was not working, she was usually sleeping. Sleep was a hard thing to come by with her busy schedule.

But in the past few months, even sleep had been stripped away from her.

Ino could be tired enough to pass out, but her eyes would not close. They stayed open, drawing her attention to mundane things that hardly interested her, but diverted her, nevertheless.

Ino was sure she had insomnia.

"Thank God for beauty products," she had heard a fellow model say once when she entered the room.

Her friend had laughed, loudly, and Ino had sped by them, trying to ignore them all.

That was what depressed her; the cruel girl had been right.

With Ino's lack of sleep, her energy and complex features had been sucked right out of her.

The bags under her eyes were dark blue and purple, resembling bruises. Her skin had turned waxen, losing its creamy white texture. Ino had lost weight as well, even though she didn't need it; she was already thin.

There were rumors about her. Rumors about her weight and questions of her health. These were natural rumors, ones every model experiences at a time during her career.

Only, Ino's were never ending.

The cab lurched into a stop, and Ino looked out at the stylish buildings.

She checked the meter and counted out the money to pay for the ride, handing it to the cabby.

"_Merci, madame_."

Ino did not respond and got out of the car, shoving her hands into her coat pockets to keep them warm.

She walked against the chilled breeze to the slate steel building.

It was a photo shoot today, either clothes or shoes or something else stupid like that. It was all the same.

Ino exhaled once she entered the lobby. At least it was warm here.

She briskly walked by the security guard, shooting him a wan smile when he looked her over.

After passing, the corners of her mouth slid back down, deepening into their usual scowl.

It was a small production, something Ino was grateful for. Taking pictures with other girls complicated everything; you had to be aware of all of them and their positions.

Ino entered a large room down a hallway, where assistants were setting up camera equipment.

She blew past them, going to the door that had a sheet of paper that said _Hair and Make-up_.

A twenty-something at the end waved her over.

Ino vaguely glanced at the two other models in the room.

One was listening to her iPod as her hairdresser spiked her auburn locks, and the other was scowling at her expression, black hair perfected into curls.

Ino reached her chair and sat down, casting her hairdresser a look.

He was young and his blue eyes were bright and icy; his dark hair stood in a fauxhawk, carefully sculpted. His cologne hung on him like a coat and Ino coughed at the thickness.

"Bonjour," he greeted in a strict Texan accent.

Ino stared at him.

"Hi," she responded, quiet.

"Oh, my God, thank the Lord Jesus for someone who speaks English!" he exclaimed, throwing his hand up in the air for mock praise.(2)

When Ino claimed surprise, the hairdresser quickly explained, running his long fingers in her hair.

"I swear to God, child, I have been dying here. France: Worst country in the world."

Ino raised her eyebrows, and her hairdresser continued to ramble into existence until her hair was finished.

It was blown out from her face, accentuating her long neck and high cheekbones.

Another forty minutes and her make-up was done, and Ino was being whisked off to wardrobe.

It was a shoe add, and Ino took her time; the other girls were already getting their photos done. It wasn't a group shot; she wasn't required yet.

The shoes were three sizes too small and they cramped her feet, but Ino didn't complain. They wouldn't care, as long as she sold the product and made it look good.

The first girl with the spiked hair returned and cast off her shoes and the clothes they'd given her to wear with it.

Ino walked out, wearing dark wide-legged jeans and a white tee shirt.

She liked these simple photo shoots where she didn't have to wear anything particularly restraining.

The other girl with the black hair was finishing up, doing high jumps that Ino envied. She wasn't that eager, especially in these last few months.

The photographer waved the dark headed girl away, finished.

"_Merci!_" he called as she was making her way back to the dressing rooms.

She shot Ino a look as she passed; a try-to-do-better-than-me look. Ino knew these looks all too well.

Ino allowed the photographer to kiss her cheek, and then hurried over to the place where he gestured.

The lights tuned and the camera started clicking.

Ino had been modeling since she was five, and she was great at it.

She knew all the poses, the way to manipulate her body to make it appear thinner than it actually was, the way to work her face.

It was easy.

In fact, everything was easy.

Everything except living.

* * *

(1) Do you recall that big arch thing that lots of cars go through in movies? Yeah. That's the Arc de Triomphe. It is at the western end of the Champs-Elysees, that popular street in Paris.

(2) This is a tribute to one of my classmates who actually talks and acts like this. Hahaha. He won't ever read this, but his face popped into my head and cracked me up. This is for you, Will! ;P

_Yes, I know it seems a bit strange. Believe me, I know._

_But if you give it a chance, I'm sure you'll adjust well. :)_

_Review._


	2. A Dance 'Round the Memory Tree

_I hope all of you are well. :)_

_I really got inspired by a book called _Wintergirls _from Laurie Halse Anderson. It pertains to some of the issues in this fic, and I urge all of you to read it. It's very well-written._

MadamMistress: _Thank you very much. :D Hahaha._

ArAshiMitArAshi: _Thank you!_

Drea1284: _Hehe, you'll just have to wait and see. :)_

aki-child: _:D_

kiwi4me: _Thank you._

neji's goddess: _Thanks very much for sticking with me through all these fics! ;D_

StrawberrySmoothie99: _Not a French speaker. :( Sorry._

**Song:** A Dance 'Round the Memory Tree by Oren Lavie.

**Disclaimer:** Masashi Kishimoto created the characters. I own everything else. . . And France, well, France is an entity of itself.

* * *

_Deux._

Ino finished her photo shoot around a half hour later.

The wind had picked up to a bluster, carelessly whipping Ino's hair around.

Impatiently, the blonde captured it and irritably tugged it into an elastic she wore on her wrist.

She hailed a cab and allowed it to speed her home.

-

Despite the many envious looks that got shot at her, Ino had from an early age accepted she was ugly.

Ugly was a safe feeling—no obligations to be perfect, no people to try and impress.

Ino hated impressing.

It was such a draining action that required too much energy that Ino didn't require.

She was a wisp of wind, floating along.

Energy was not a chemical reaction Ino possessed.

Besides, if Ino were ugly, she could leave it up to others to make her pretty. Make-up did wonders on the right face. And Ino's _was_ the right face. She hadn't gotten to her household name by her own will, but the will of stylists, groomers, photographers.

They made her.

Ino didn't know if she was grateful or not.

-

One thing Ino didn't do very often was go to parties.

Tonight, however, was different.

She was invited by a fellow model at the previous runway show she had done. The model had been nice, American, like Ino.

And like Ino, the other model (Ino recalled her name was Sakura) was new to France.

This party was a housewarming.

Sakura's apartment was in the immediate city, only a mile or so from Ino's own home.

Ino walked, even though her feet hurt with every step in the heels she was wearing.

The party was the loud, buzzing kind with smooth champagne and wine coolers and suave French men with their overbearing cologne.

Ino hesitated at the door, but it opened before she could touch the doorknob. Two girls spilled out, sparkly eyelids and dresses glittering as they yammered in French.

They eyed Ino, from top to bottom. This was a look Ino was used to. She pressed past them, into the apartment.

It was an adequate size for one person, and the living room was spacious and surrounded by floor-to-ceiling windows.

There was a balcony facing the city.

Ino bit her lip and started for it.

Before she could reach the doors, she was intercepted by a voice calling out her name. Ino turned and looked, seeing Sakura.

Ino politely endured the mindless chatter Sakura pushed into her ears, answering when a particular question was asked.

Sakura finally released Ino, though, sending her off with well-wishes to enjoy the party and see-you-laters.

Ino went to the balcony doors.

She noticed, instantly, that it was cold.

Ino glanced down at herself, wondering why she had neglected to wear a coat. She had walked here—had she really not realized the temperature?

Ino shook her head, dismissing this caring thought.

She did not care if she froze to death. Not really.

The balcony was caged in with Parisian wrought iron railing. It was crafted to catch the eye and be admired. Ino dismissed it, pulling herself up onto the thin rail.

She knew she was too heavy, but Ino settled herself on the rail anyway. Her long, thin legs dangled uselessly over the other side, above the sidewalk/street twenty or thirty feet below.

Ino considered this with a blank expression.

If there were more wind, would it lift her off the skinny rail and into the sky with all the twinkly, sparkle lights? Or would she fall to concrete street, loose gravel pushing into her nostrils?

Ino did not know.

Behind her, the balcony doors opened again.

Ino did not turn to look. She did not care.

"You going to jump?" asked a disinterested voice in English.

Ino's forehead wrinkled.

Had she actually heard this voice, or was it in her head, like so many others?

Ino glanced over her shoulder to make sure.

The voice was real, and it belonged to a guy around her age. His hair was pulled back into a high, spiky ponytail. He rolled an unlit cigarette in his hand, as if he was deciding whether or not to smoke it.

"Excuse me?" Ino inquired, confused.

The man gestured to the rail Ino was sitting on.

"Are you going to jump? I'd like to get a head-start on calling the paramedics, if you are."

Ino had never been faced with such frankness.

"I just wanted to see the view," Ino murmured.

He nodded, clearly forgetting he had just asked if she were going to commit suicide.

There was silence, except for the noise from the party and the street.

Below, a horn bellowed from a car.

"So," Ino started, carefully shifting her weight on the rail, "do you know Sakura?"

The spiky-haired guy shook his head.

"My friend does, though. I had nothing better to do, so I tagged along." He glanced at Ino with his dark eyes, "How do you know her?"

Ino bit the inside of her cheek.

"We work together."

The guy's eyes narrowed as he thought. He looked at Ino again.

"Naruto said something about modeling. Is that what you do?"

Ino nodded briefly. Her insides felt squirmy, ugly.

"That's interesting. You haven't been in Paris long, then?"

"Just a few weeks. I'll be staying a while though."

He cocked his head at her, seemingly deciding something. Then, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a rectangular piece of paper. He strode forward and handed it to Ino.

The guy turned and made his way back to the party, calling over his shoulder as he left, "Call me if you need someone who knows the city. It sucks to be in a big town and not know where to go."

Ino waited until he was gone to read the card.

It was almost like a business card, but very simple.

The guy's name was printed in neat, block letters, his phone number directly below it.

SHIKAMARU NARA.

* * *

_Please review. :)_


	3. Help, I'm Alive

_I hope all of you are doing well this fine Friday! :D_

kiwi4me: _You'll see. :) And this one's a bit longer than the other. :)_

neji's goddess: _I don't know how to explain it, but she just has a very low confidence. Even though she's physically pretty, inside, she can't stand herself. For her, it's like being in a body that was originally someone else's. :)_

mangaanime: _Thank you. :D_

Gothic Queen: _Thanks very much! :)_

ArAshiMitArAshi: _Thank you. :)_

Coco-Minu: _Thanks very much. :D_

**Song:** Help, I'm Alive by Metric.

**Disclaimer:** Kishimoto still owns _Naruto_ . . . even though it's clear he's lost his ever loving mind. ;)

* * *

_Trois._

Ino's mother, Mrs. Yamanaka, had a habit of calling at three in the morning.

This time, Ino was already prepared to answer. After leaving Sakura's party, she had walked home and promptly not gone to bed. She wasn't tired. Her eyelids were heavy, but sleep did not nag her.

Ino waited for the first two rings before picking up the phone.

"Hello?" she asked, layering her voice with sleep.

"Ino?"

"Mom, it's three in the morning," Ino complained, yawning convincingly into the phone.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" her mother exclaimed, sounding truly contrite. "I didn't mean to wake you. I can call back later, if you want. . ."

Ino sighed, resting back against the headboard of the bed.

"No, Mom. It's okay."

Mrs. Yamanaka twittered a little more before Ino finally stifled it, threatening to hang up. Mrs. Yamanaka quickly diverged her train of thought.

"How are you?" was her first question.

Ino knew better. This was only the start of her interrogative telecommunications.

"Fine, Mom," Ino said firmly, turning to look out the large bedroom window. Paris was still lit up, even at three a.m.

"Are you sure? You haven't been calling much, and. . ."

"I don't have to call. You call me every week, like clockwork. I'm fine."

There was a pause on the line, as Mrs. Yamanaka seemed to be thinking.

Then, she murmured in a low voice, "Are you eating?"

Ino tore her gaze from the window and the lights, staring straight ahead at the wall.

She was tempted to hang up, just for the insinuation. She was nineteen years old now, not some little girl.

"Yes," Ino answered monotonously, her face devoid of emotion.

Mrs. Yamanaka got the message, and quickly changed the subject.

"Well, how's work going?"

"Fine. I have a go-see later this morning, and a show tonight."

"You're not working too hard now, are you, Ino?"

Ino closed her eyes, summoning patience.

"No, I'm not. I'm fine. I told you that."

"Ino, I just worry about you. You're in a big city, and you don't necessarily know anyone. That can be daunting for anyone."

Ino shook her head, not caring that her mother could not see.

"Ino, maybe your dad and I should fly over there for Christmas. Wouldn't that be nice?"

"Mom, you were just here two weeks ago. You and Dad don't need to waste all of your money coming to see me."

Her mother sighed heavily.

"Ino," she sniveled, "if we can't see you for Christmas, when will we see you?"

Ino rolled her eyes and drew her legs to her chest, wrapping an arm around them.

"I'll work out my schedule and let you know, okay? I'll visit really soon. I promise."

By her mother's exhale, Ino could tell she wasn't happy. But appeasement was hardly something Ino was good at.

After a few more comforting words, Mrs. Yamanaka finally hung up.

Ino placed her phone on the bedside table and lied down on her back, staring up at the ceiling.

She was exhausted, and the sun hadn't even risen yet.

-

The runway show was something Ino had booked a week in advance.

It was a couture show, which meant ridiculously form fitting articles of clothing, and plenty of room to trip.

Ino arrived two hours prior to the show, giving herself enough time to undergo all of the make-up and hairstyling required for the venue.

The hairstylist and make-up artist chattered vapidly as Ino waited for them to finish.

The closer it got for the show to start, the more people began to arrive. Backstage was crowded with models, photographers, assistants. It was nerve-racking and crazy.

Ino managed to stay out of the way of the chaos, perching herself in a chair near a restricted staircase. From her point of view, it seemed much like a swarming, gyrating group, always evolving.

"Yamanaka?" called a loud voice from over near the clothes racks.

Ino reluctantly stood and made her way to through the mass of people, finding the person who'd called her name.

"First looks," informed the assistant, not even looking at Ino as she pointed to a dress on a hangar.

Ino nodded; the assistant moved on, yelling out other names as she checked her clipboard.

Ino, conscious of everyone around, stripped off her remaining clothes and scrambled into the dress.

It was the color of coriander, made of brocaded lace.

Ino tugged at the high collar before an assistant's hand slapped her fingers away and led her to the runway line.

Ino was behind a taller girl with flaming red hair, in the third place from the beginning.

The crowd out front was deafening.

Assistants combed the models, fixing, adjusting, primping.

Ino felt like a doll that little girls played with. A thin, sad doll.

The music started thumping from the soundboard, carried out from the speakers. It was a fast beat. Ino was already starting to get a migraine by the time the first girl exited to walk.

The line continued to move forward.

Before she knew it, one of the backstage directors was hissing, "_Aller!_" in French.

Ino carefully climbed the steps to the runway.

Hundreds of faces stared at her upon her emergence.

Ino did not meet their eyes.

Walking was very much like floating in a body of water. If you stared straight ahead, you could see the sky in its endless possibilities. Your body is connected, but your thoughts aren't. Dreaming while living in reality.

Ino was at the end of the runway. She mechanized her poses at the end, silently counting the passing of five seconds before turning around.

She swayed back to the entryway.

Her job was already done, and her face was already forgotten.

A doll indeed.

-

Ino hated entering her apartment.

It always gave her an uncomfortable feeling, like the rooms were pointing out just how alone she was.

The runway show had ended an hour previously.

Ino had easily disengaged herself from the rejoicing of the runway's success, and simply declined after-party invitations.

Ino glanced at her phone as she shut her apartment door behind her.

Twelve sixteen.

Ino gave her apartment a once-over.

The lights from the city poured in from the windows, so Ino left the lights off.

She sat down on her couch and searched randomly in her purse.

Her fingers found a card-like piece of paper, and Ino withdrew it.

It was the business card from the guy she'd met at Sakura's party a week or so ago.

Ino rotated it between her fingers, thinking.

Finally, after ignoring her skeptical self, she picked up her phone and dialed the number from the card.

It went straight to voicemail.

Ino considered hanging up, but before she could make her decision, the phone had beeped and silence was waiting for her to speak.

Ino stumbled on her words.

"Um, hi. You probably don't remember me, but, um, I was at that party for Sakura? You gave me your card. . . and, well, I was just. . . Um. Sorry."

Before Ino could say what exactly she was sorry for, the phone cut her off, saving the message.

Ino hung up quickly, mortified.

Why had she even called this stranger? He probably wouldn't even remember her, let alone call her back. Who would? She hadn't left a name or a number. . .

Ino's phone was ringing, the tone shrill in the quiet apartment.

Ino read the caller I.D. Unknown number.

Ino argued with herself on whether or not to answer, but her fingers decided for her.

Ino sighed and brought the phone to her ear.

"Hello?" she weakly greeted.

"This number just left me a very confusing voicemail."

Ino swallowed. The guy on the other line sounded exactly like the person who'd given her the card.

"Yes," Ino muttered. "I'm sorry about that. I—!"

"What's your name?"

Ino blinked at the interruption.

"Ino. Ino Yamanaka," she replied.

"Well, Ino, I can't say I remember you all too well. Your voicemail said something about a party?"

"Uh, yes. I was the girl out on the balcony?"

When this didn't seem to ring any bells, Ino continued at her humiliation, "The suicidal jumper?"

"Oh, right. Well, what are you doing?"

Ino shrugged.

"Nothing, really. I just . . . I mean, I don't even know why I called you, but—!"

"Where do you live?"

Ino's forehead wrinkled at the question.

"Um, an apartment building near the Champs-Elysees."

The guy snorted.

"You don't know the actual street names yet, do you?"

Ino released a short laugh.

"No, sorry."

"That's okay. Do you live somewhat close to where that party was?"

"Yes. About a mile or so south of it."

"Alright. I'll find it. See you in a bit."

Ino hung up after she heard the line disconnect, only half-aware of what she'd just done.

* * *

_Thanks for reading. :)_

_Please review._


	4. In Transit

_Can you say mediocre? I sure can. XD_

_Please forgive this crappy chapter. I'm uberly sorry. Hopefully Spring Break will get me back on focus. ;)_

_Also, thanks bunches to all the new readers! I'm excited this has caught your attention. :D_

neji's goddess: _Yes. Yes, she is. ;)_

Haylin-chan: _Here's one! :) Thanks for the review._

Shubhs: _Thank you!! :D_

SacredWritings: _Here's more, as requested. :)_

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Gothic Queen: _No more waiting! :D_

WolvesKey: _Thanks for the kind words and review! :)_

jinxed: _Sweet! Here you are, reviewer! ;)_

laughingstick: _Yeah. Personal experience with my own madre made that "strangely" easy to write. XD ;)_

KukiRew: _Thank you. :)_

**Song:** In Transit by Mark Hoppus and Pete Wentz.

**Disclaimer:** Kishi-san owns. . .

* * *

_Quatre._

"Wow. You didn't have to get all made-up, you know."

Ino instantly blushed.

She stammered, "Oh, no, I didn't. I had a show tonight and I just forgot to take it off."

She moved out of the doorway, leaving him room to enter.

In the darkness of the hallway, he was barely seeable, but now that he was in her apartment, Ino could make him out more clearly.

His hair was in the same spiky ponytail it had been in at the party. His jeans were worn, and his sweater looked a little small for him.

"Nice," he commented genially, strolling around her living room.

Ino was caught slightly off-guard.

"Thank you," she mumbled, while trying to flatten the hairspray poof that was her hair.

Shikamaru meandered to the window, looking down at the city.

He turned back to Ino.

"So, have you been on a moped before?"

Ino gave up on her hair, pulling it into a rough ponytail.

She shook her head.

"Well, let's go then. Make sure you bring a jacket and some gloves."

Ino, puzzled, did as he said and followed him out, locking the door behind her.

Their footsteps in the stairwell were loud; no one else was up and about at this hour in her building. They exited the apartment building and arrived onto the sidewalk.

Shikamaru did not hesitate to stride over to a red motorbike, holding out a helmet for Ino.

If she were honest with herself, Ino was frightened.

Shakily, she followed him to the curb, taking the helmet. She reluctantly strapped it on.

"Have you driven one of these before?" she asked, voice clearly unsure.

Shikamaru smirked as he climbed the moped, starting the engine.

"Well, it's pretty easy from what I hear. Like riding a bike," he answered, revving the motor.

Ino immediately became stricken and pale, causing Shikamaru to laugh.

"Just kidding," he swore, holding out a hand to help her on. "It's safe. I promise."

Ino sighed and took his hand. Shikamaru pulled her on, waiting until she was settled to glance at her.

"You're gonna want to hold on," he said, dark eyes kind. "It might seem like nothing special, but it can go pretty fast."

Ino started to put her hands on Shikamaru's shoulders, but he shook his head, rearranging them around his waist.

The jacket he was wearing was slick; Ino clung on a little tighter.

"Ready?" Shikamaru asked.

Ino managed a grimace.

Without delay, the moped lurched onto the street, and they were off.

-

If anything, getting off the motorbike was worse than being on it.

Ino's legs felt like jelly and tingly from the buzz of the engine.

She undid the helmet, handing it to Shikamaru, who tucked it under his arm as he parked the moped.

He had parked outside of a café that claimed the "world's best eclairs".

"Is that true?" she asked Shikamaru, pointing to the sign.

Shikamaru shook his head, smiling a little.

"No, but they do have really good coffee."

Ino reluctantly followed Shikamaru inside.

It was overly heated inside; after a minute inside the shop, Ino was sure she was sweating.

Sweetness assaulted her everywhere. If she breathed, Ino could smell the sugar. Her stomach protested.

Just being there made her sick. Ino clamped a hand over her mouth and exited the shop.

She bent over on the sidewalk, dry heaving.

There was nothing in her to throw up. Ino felt clammy and weak.

"Ino?"

Ino's face flushed crimson. Embarrassment flooded her.

"You okay?" Shikamaru asked.

Ino could see his legs, standing a few feet from her. She noticed his Converse shoes were worn and dirty.

Ino nodded hurriedly to answer his question.

"I forgot to tell you about the heat thing. They keep it really warm inside to keep the food hot."

Ino's forehead wrinkled.

Was that why he thought she was out here? Because of the heat?

Ino straightened shakily and leaned back against the windows of the shop.

Well, if he didn't suspect, why should she say anything? His assuming actually made everything that much easier.

"Yeah," Ino said, rubbing her eyes. "It was the heat."

Ino felt Shikamaru study her for a minute, before he said, "Stay here for a second, alright? I'll be right back."

He did not wait for an answer, striding back into the shop.

Ino slid down the window behind her, sitting down on the sidewalk.

She cradled her head in her hands, her knees drawn to her chest.

She had gotten lucky, and she knew it. Stupid actions like running out and dry heaving in the middle of sidewalks was not the way to keep people from knowing her secret. In fact, it was more like holding up a sign saying, "Look at me! Something weird is going on; come see!"

Ino exhaled roughly.

Why had she even gone with him? This whole evening had been a disaster, and she was the one who kept screwing it up. It was all her fault.

Ino didn't blame Shikamaru if he never spoke to her again.

"Here."

Ino looked up to see Shikamaru sitting beside her on the sidewalk, holding out a cup to her.

Ino took it from him. Something inside sloshed around.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Coffee."

Ino glanced suspiciously at Shikamaru.

"Did you . . . did you put anything in this?"

Shikamaru paused in his unwrapping of a paper bag.

"They put sugar in it, to make it sweeter, but I didn't know how you took it."

Ino stared at the cup, skeptical.

She sipped the coffee. It scalded her tongue.

"So, you feeling any better?" Shikamaru asked.

Ino shrugged.

"'Cause I got some scones. They're a lot better than their world famous eclairs. You want one?"

Ino glanced at him.

Shikamaru was holding out a pastry.

She quickly shook her head.

"No, thank you. I—I still don't feel all that well."

Shikamaru nodded amiably, stuffing the scone in his mouth unceremoniously.

Ino swallowed more of the coffee and watched Shikamaru.

He chewed like a cow, slow and purposeful. His nose was straight, which Ino noticed only when he turned his head to watch the cars pass on the street. His eyes were unfathomably dark.

"So," Shikamaru started, turning back and focusing on Ino. "You're a model, right?"

Ino nodded, not a little guarded.

"How did you get into that?"

Ino paused, thinking back to the years before when she'd been discovered.

"It was a mistake, actually. My mom's best friend is a photographer. One day, she was doing a shoot and her model didn't show up. So she called my mom, hysterical, and my mom told her to calm down, everything would be fine. She piled me into the car and we went to where the shoot was, and I modeled for her. A few months after that, everything just took off, I guess."

Shikamaru studied her as she spoke. Ino felt exposed to his gaze. She stared at her hands, cupped around her coffee cup.

"So, are you . . . French?" Ino tentatively asked.

Shikamaru snorted, taking out another scone.

"No," he answered. "No. You know those strange teenagers who have trouble 'finding themselves' and run away from home to shoot the breeze?"

Ino smiled slightly.

"Yes."

"Well, that's me. And for some inexplicable reason, I chose France."

He leaned back against the building, his arms crossed as he examined the street and passers-by.

After a moment, Ino inquired, "Well? Have you found yourself yet?"

Shikamaru's dark eyes strayed back to hers, betraying nothing in their fathomless depths.

"I'm getting there," he murmured.

Ino looked down, quietly considering the person across from her.

Something told her he wasn't like everyone else.

And something told her that he viewed her that way too.

Fear struck her heart.

Ino bit her lip, nervous.

Shikamaru continued, "So, do you have any other friends here, besides Sakura?"

Ino shook her head, glancing at him.

Shikamaru was quiet for a moment.

"Well, on Fridays, some of my friends and I hang out at this place. You can come, if you want."

Ino hesitated.

"But I wouldn't blame you if you didn't want to come. They're all pretty lame."

Ino smiled a little.

"I think I'd like to go. If you don't mind. . ." Ino said.

"No problem," Shikamaru muttered, meeting her eyes briefly. "You ready to try the moped again?"

Ino glanced at the red machine and winced.

Shikamaru caught the look and chuckled loudly.

* * *

_If you love good music, please review._

_:)_


	5. The Deepest Blues Are Black

_Happy Springtime!_

_I hope all of you are enjoying this lovely weather and the April showers (that bring May flowers)! :)_

SacredWritings: _Thanks! :D_

mangaanime: _Thank you very much! That restores my faith in this somewhat. :)_

anonymous: _Haha. I'm glad you be likin' the French. :D_

WolvesKey: _Gracias, amigo._

Haylin-chan: _Aw, that's so sweet! :) Thanks, dear._

KukiRew: _Thanks. :)_

neji's goddess: _Very nicely put. ;D_

shante: _Thanks. Yeah, I know Ino's a lot different than she is in Kishimoto's version, but I really wanted to give some depth to that airhead brain of hers. :)_

jackeyyy: _:D Sweet, dude! :) Hahaha._

Nightmarish Dreams: _Thank you! You make it sound so much better than it actually is! ;D I'm glad you liked it. Music is the best. :)_

Gothic Queen: _You won't have to wait as long as the others. ;D_

**Song:** The Deepest Blues Are Black by Foo Fighters.

**Disclaimer:** Kishi-san owns the characters. France belongs to . . . whoever owns it. And the ideas belong to me. :)

* * *

_Cinq._

Shikamaru flicked his cigarette, waiting.

His assignment wasn't incredibly particular, merely ten or so pictures of the busy French streets. Easy enough, considering the city (literally) never slept.

Shikamaru's dark eyes lingered momentarily over the Seine, before a certain individual caught his eye.

She was dejectedly thin, her long blonde hair impatiently placed in a ponytail. Her movements were swift but measured, like she had thought out every step with extreme preciseness.

Shikamaru threw down his cigarette, crushing it under his foot. A second later, his camera was up to his eye, and he was fixing the focus.

He got lucky.

Ino stopped at a crosswalk, waiting for the streetlight.

Shikamaru snapped shot after shot, seizing the opportunity.

Five clicks later, the streetlight finally gave, and Ino walked away, her long legs carrying her far.

Shikamaru considered calling out to her, but decided against it; he would see her Friday anyway.

Besides . . . he had pictures to review.

Shikamaru perused his latest shots, nodding.

He wondered vaguely if he should show them to Ino.

A second later, Shikamaru shook his head, dismissing it altogether.

He rose from his spot on the bench and picked up his backpack, arranging his camera around his neck. He had a job to finish, after all.

-

Friday could not come quick enough for Ino. The rest of the week dragged by, as if by the hour.

When Friday finally arrived and night fell, Ino started to become more and more nervous.

Throughout the walk to the restaurant, Ino's body filled with static anticipation. Her nerves were all a jumble, so much so that she barely heard Shikamaru when he addressed her a few feet from their destination.

"There's a few things you should know about my friends before you meet them. Firstly, Naruto's an idiot. Don't listen to a word he says; he's insane. Neji'll stay pretty quiet, but his girlfriend TenTen's pretty friendly. She'll be nice to you. And Choji won't be here until later."

"Who's Choji?"

Shikamaru's gaze flicked to her.

"My best friend."

"Oh."

"Ready?" he prompted a second later, his hand on the doorhandle.

Ino hesitated, having trouble swallowing past her thick, dry tongue.

Shikamaru waited, as if it were normal to mentally prepare yourself before entering an establishment.

"Ino?" murmured Shikamaru.

Ino sighed and nodded.

Shikamaru opened the door and led her inside.

The 'restaurant' resembled more that of a bar. A long, polished counter divided half of the building, bar stools crammed around it. The other half of the building held tables and booths alike, a pool table occupying a stuffy-looking corner, and a dart board on the wall.

A small group was lounging at the back of the bar in one of the larger booths; a blonde male who was laughing loudly, a girl with her brown hair in twin buns who was smiling slyly, and a final male with long dark hair, scowling at the both of them.

Shikamaru advanced at his slow, leisurely pace, Ino shyly lagging a little behind.

"Shikamaru!" exclaimed the blonde male, grinning widely.

His large blue eyes flicked to Ino, and he cocked his head to the side.

"And guest. . ." he concluded, the interest in his voice palpable.

"Guys, this is Ino," Shikamaru introduced as he sat down.

Ino slid in next to Shikamaru, carefully avoiding the eyes suddenly directed at her.

The bun-headed girl leaned across the table, smiling warmly, and offered her hand to Ino.

"Hi, I'm TenTen."

Ino shook her hand loosely, trying to smile back. She feared it appeared more like a grimace.

"And that's Neji," Shikamaru pointed out, gesturing lazily to the guy with the long, dark hair. He nodded at Ino, acknowledging her.

"And I'm Naruto!" said the blonde loudly, grinning widely at her.

Shikamaru leaned back in his chair and took a handful of peanuts from the bowl on the table.

"So, Ino," began TenTen genially, "how did you come to meet Shikamaru?"

Ino shot a quick look at Shikamaru, unsure how to portray their first meeting.

Shikamaru sensed her discomfort and said around the peanuts in his mouth, "I met her at that party Naruto dragged me to a few weeks ago. Remember, Naruto?"

Naruto squinted, as if that particular action would summon the memory easier.

"Vaguely," he ceded slowly. "I don't remember meeting Ino before though."

"I'm an acquaintance of Sakura's," Ino inputted softly.

Naruto snapped his fingers, realization coming to his eyes.

"Oh, right. How did you come to meet Sakura-chan?"

"We work together," muttered Ino.

Naruto appeared confused again. He looked at Ino for help.

"They model together, dimwit," Shikamaru said, rolling his eyes.

TenTen raised her eyebrows.

"Modeling? How long have you been doing that, Ino?"

"A few years," answered Ino, swiftly growing uncomfortable.

She glanced around for an occupation to divert her attention for the time being.

A few feet from their table, by the bar, were the restrooms.

"Excuse me," Ino said quickly, standing and striding hurriedly to the door.

The ladies' bathroom was devoid of any other patrons, so Ino let out the breath she'd been holding.

She hated this. Really hated it.

What was she doing here, anyway? Having a normal life? Please. She was nothing more than a paper doll in a world with a bunch of real, tangible figurines. She was a waif, compared to them. A wisp of air, a phantom in the night, a whisper. She wasn't worth existence.

Ino inhaled oxygen with some difficulty; her lungs felt like they were having trouble functioning.

Ino crouched by the sink, leaning her head against the wall as she hyperventilated.

It took several minutes for her to get her breathing under control, but Ino finally stood and turned on the sink.

She splashed some cold water on her face, getting rid of the sticky clamminess that clung there. She wiped the water from her face with a paper towel and stared at her reflection.

The dark half-moons on her eyes were growing darker and more prominent. Ino brought her wrists into view of the mirror, staring at the visible, spidery blue lines. They were so easy to see through the pale, thin skin, Ino wondered if it would be easy to touch them.

She blinked and ran her eyes over her imperfect figure.

Too angular. Too wide. Too bulbous.

"Ugly," Ino muttered.

She tore her eyes from the mirror and retreated from the bathroom.

The hallway to the restrooms provided easy cover from other eyes in the bar. So much so, that Ino could overhear what Shikamaru's friends were saying about her before she'd returned to their table.

"Shikamaru, honestly," said TenTen, her tone concerned. "What are you going to do about this?"

"Do about what?" Shikamaru replied, his voice strangely on edge and annoyed.

"Ino!" hissed TenTen. "I mean, have you seen her? She can't weigh more than ninety pounds, Shikamaru. Do you know what happens to someone who gets down to eighty pounds?"

Shikamaru muttered back an answer Ino couldn't distinguish.

"No," answered TenTen. "Their organs fail and then they die."

There were a few seconds of silence.

"Have you asked her about it?" Naruto tentatively asked.

"No," Shikamaru said, noncommittal. "I just met her, guys. And she just moved here a month or so ago. It's none of my business. Or yours, for that matter."

TenTen sighed, seemingly exasperated.

"You're an idiot. And I can't wait to hear what Choji'll say about all this," TenTen finally said.

The table fell quiet, and Ino felt it was safe to return, despite her mortification.

-

"So. What did you think?"

Ino quietly crossed her arms in an attempt to get warm.

"About what?" she retorted softly.

Shikamaru scoffed, mildly impatient.

"My friends, Ino. The people we spent the last hour or two with?"

Ino reflected silently on Shikamaru's friends.

After her return to the table, conversation was kept genially afloat by random topics presented by the blonde, Naruto.

Ino wasn't sure what she thought of him in particular, other than he was rambunctious and loud. TenTen was nice and tried to be engaging. Her boyfriend, Neji, barely said anything at all, deciding to sit quietly in his chair.

Choji, Shikamaru's proclaimed best friend, had arrived later on. He was a rotund individual with jovial features. He also had spoken little, though he'd watched Ino with curious eyes.

Ino shrugged to suffice Shikamaru.

"They're all right," she murmured in answer.

Shikamaru snorted.

"'All right'?" he repeated. "They made that good of an impression on you?"

Ino smiled a little at Shikamaru's joke.

"They're nice enough," elaborated Ino quietly.

"They were on their good behavior," Shikamaru said.

He fumbled in his jeans pocket and withdrew a cigarette carton.

Taking out one of the sticks, he produced a lighter and lit it, placing the cigarette between his lips.

Ino watched him, frowning.

"You shouldn't smoke," she finally said, after Shikamaru had taken a few puffs. "It's bad for you."

"So I've been told," sighed Shikamaru.

His breath mingled with the cigarette exhaust in the dark air. Ino's eyes watched it twirl into the sky before it dissipated.

"What are you doing on Sunday?" Shikamaru inquired, looking straight ahead.

Ino blinked, somewhat startled.

Why was Shikamaru asking? Did he want to hang out again?

Ino frowned.

"Nothing," she ultimately forced herself to say, despite the questions weighing on her mind.

"Good. I'll see you at six then."

Ino glanced at him, bewildered.

"Six at night?"

"No. Six in the morning."

Ino's eyebrows drew together in confusion.

"Why so early?"

Shikamaru looked at her and exhaled, his dark eyes boring into her lighter ones.

He smirked.

"You'll see."

* * *

_To be completely honest, this chapter could have been a lot better. . ._

_XD_

_Leave a review, s'il vous plaît._


	6. Ooh La

_Hello. :)_

The Review Monster: _You are evil, my friend. Pure evil. ;D Thank you so much for your review. I'm really glad you're liking it. :)_

KawaiPanda: _Thank you!_

Haylin-chan: _Hahaha. You'll see._

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laughingstick: _Not quite. ;) Nice guess though._

mangaanime: _Hahaha. Thanks for the review!_

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neji's goddess: _Thanks for the review, dear._

One Person: _And thank you for reviewing it! :)_

Gothic Queen: _Thanks. :)_

**Song:** Ooh La - The Kooks.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own. Thank you for your attention.

* * *

_Six._

Choji thoughtfully reclined on Shikamaru's couch, watching him smoke a cigarette.

"Shikamaru?"

Shikamaru grunted in acknowledgment, glancing at his friend for a second.

"What's the deal with Ino?"

Shikamaru pursed his lips and examined the smoking cigarette he held between his fingers. He knew it was a bad habit, but this particular one was a lot harder to break than others. Shikamaru sighed. The things would kill him yet.

"What do you mean?" Shikamaru replied.

Choji knew this game well. Shikamaru did this when he didn't want to own up to something.

"I mean," Choji elaborated, "what is the deal with Ino?"

Shikamaru rolled his eyes and took another drag.

"I don't know what you want me to say, Choji. I found her at a party, where she was dangerously close to plummeting to the ground. What else do you want to know?"

Choji's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"She's suicidal?" he inquired in his soft voice.

Shikamaru stubbed out the cigarette and shrugged, shaking his head slightly.

"She might be," Shikamaru finally ceded. "I haven't exactly brought up the subject."

"Maybe you should," suggested Choji quietly.

Shikamaru rolled his eyes at his friend.

"That's the stupidest thing you've ever said," Shikamaru said, his face suddenly focused.

Choji was silent for a few seconds, analyzing his best friend with curious eyes.

"Does Temari know you've taken her up as a . . . project?" he finally murmured.

Sharply, Shikamaru met Choji's level gaze, his dark eyes unusually fierce.

"Firstly, Ino is not a project. She's a person. And secondly, no, I haven't. I didn't see a reason to."

Choji exhaled smoothly.

"Speaking of Temari, when is she coming to visit?"

"Christmas," answered Shikamaru stiffly.

Choji considered this for several minutes, watching as Shikamaru flopped down into an armchair.

"What did the others say about Ino?" Choji questioned.

"They're . . . concerned about her weight."

Choji recalled the wisp of a person he'd met. Her face had been sunken deeply, exposing the framework of a skull. The limbs were long and frail, horrifically easy to break. Her eyes had been the most haunted thing about her; they were distant and reserved.

"Yes. . . She's sick, Shikamaru. She obviously needs help. And since she's your friend, you need to help her."

Shikamaru rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"What am I supposed to do?" he asked. "I'm only one person. Besides, I don't even know how I'd begin to help someone like her."

"There are clinics to help people with Ino's kind of problems. You just have to get her into one."

Shikamaru sighed, exhausted.

"Fine," muttered Shikamaru. "Fine."

* * *

"I didn't know concerts were held in the morning."

Shikamaru didn't acknowledge this, putting his attention to the frenzy of cars on the street they were about to cross.

Seeing an opening, Shikamaru quickly grabbed Ino's hand and tugged, pulling her across the street.

Several cars beeped, angry at their jaywalking, but Shikamaru ignored them, focusing on getting them across in one piece.

After they were both safely on the sidewalk, Shikamaru turned to Ino, studying her.

She stared back blankly, still carrying the small bag Shikamaru had given her upon picking her up.

"You're right," he finally answered. "Concerts are usually at night. But this band is a little more unique than others."

Shikamaru started off down the sidewalk, walking at a normal pace. Ino followed briskly.

"What makes this one different?" she inquired flatly.

Shikamaru pursed his lips, thinking.

"I don't know. . . They just are. The lead singer and the drummer are some friends of mine and they wanted me to take a few pictures for them."

Ino considered this.

"So, is that what you do? Take pictures?" Ino questioned tentatively.

Shikamaru sighed, fingering the pack of cigarettes in his coat pocket.

"I'm a freelance photographer," was his slow answer.

Ino couldn't help being surprised.

"Really?"

Shikamaru nodded, slipping his hands into his pockets.

"What do you shoot usually?" Ino inquired, letting her interest shine through a little.

"Candids," Shikamaru replied, shooting her a glance.

Ino's forehead wrinkled in confusion.

"Candids?"

"Yeah. They're photographs that aren't posed. . . The best ones are when people know you aren't taking the picture."

Ino frowned slightly.

"Isn't that the whole point of a picture, though, to pose and know it's being taken?"

Shikamaru blinked and studied Ino.

"It might be different for everyone, but I think the best photos are the ones not planned. Candids are snapshots of real life, not something made up or faked. It's . . . real. It has substance."

Ino pondered on this, but did not respond.

* * *

The concert was in a building with ceiling-to-floor windows that overlooked the busying Paris.

From what Ino could tell from the door where they were getting their I.D.s checked, there was no room for moving inside the cramped, filled room.

Shikamaru retrieved his I.D. from the bouncer and turned to Ino, sliding the card in the back pocket of his jeans.

He caught her eye, dark eyes observant.

"You ready?" he asked.

Ino wasn't sure, but she nodded.

Shikamaru found her hand anyway and led her into the jumping, hectic crowd.

"It didn't occur to me to bring any earplugs," Shikamaru called out to her in a shout.

Ino hardly deciphered half of his words.

The music was loud, booming out of five foot black boxes set up beside a makeshift stage where five guys were performing.

Ino was glad Shikamaru was navigating. In that big of a closely packed crowd she felt squished and uncomfortably compact. The air was heavy with other people's sweat and deodorant and perfume. Sickly sweet.

Ino wanted to throw up, but she knew her stomach was empty.

Shikamaru finally found a two-people sized space in a corner where two of the floor-to-ceiling windows met.

"Sorry about this. Maybe it wasn't such a smart idea to bring you here," Shikamaru said, glancing at Ino's face.

"It's alright. It's . . . interesting. I've never been to a concert before," Ino murmured quietly, so softly that Shikamaru had to place his ear right up to her mouth to hear.

"Well, I should start taking some pictures. . ." trailed off Shikamaru, hiding his anxiety about leaving Ino alone.

He gingerly reached down and took the bag she'd been holding for him.

He unzipped several compartments, thoughtfully but quickly assembling an expensive-looking camera.

"I'll be around, alright?" he said, handing the bag back to Ino.

She nodded, her teal eyes lingering on his dark ones.

Shikamaru turned away, blinking swiftly to get rid of the imprint of her empty gaze.

Ino focused her attention to the band.

At this angle she was only several feet from the stage, though she could see only the profiles of the band members.

The lead singer had a good voice, a pleasing tenor. The drummer hammered away at his drums, setting the beat. The three other members filled the space between with layered back-up vocals and varieties of guitar riffs.

Ino observed the crowd, their glistening, early morning faces.

They looked happy. Exhilarated.

Ino pressed her back against the clear window, tapping her fingers against the glass.

If that thin sheet weren't there, she could just lean back, spread her arms wide, and fall like the broken bird she was.

* * *

Shikamaru relaxed after the show ended, just a little before ten.

There was a small meet-and-greet between the band and the fans, which Shikamaru took advantage of to take his own pictures.

After the multitudes of fans were ushered out by the bouncer and managers, Shikamaru found Ino where he had left her.

She was facing the glass, standing toe-to-toe with the window. Her long, blonde hair was in her face as she stared down at the city. Her breath left foggy impressions.

"Ino?"

She reluctantly raised her head and looked at him.

Shikamaru tried to disregard the desperation in her eyes.

"Come on. I want you to meet some people."

Ino followed him wordlessly to where the band was at the foot of the stage, drinking bottles of water.

"Shikamaru!" proclaimed the lead singer, brightly cuffing Shikamaru on the shoulder. "How ya been, man?"

Shikamaru smiled a little.

"Good. And you? How's the tour going?"

The singer nodded, his eyes flicking to Ino for a second. An emotion passed in the man's dark eyes. Suspicion.

"Good. Good. Rome next. It's gonna be crazy as hell," the singer said, meeting Shikamaru's eyes again.

Shikamaru nodded amiably, catching the drummer's eye.

"Gaara," greeted Shikamaru with a small acknowledging wave.

Gaara nodded in Shikamaru's direction, slowly drinking his water.

"Who's your friend?" inquired the singer, his eyes easily finding Ino again.

Shikamaru swivelled his head to the blonde, trying to read her indecipherable expression.

"This is Ino," Shikamaru introduced. "Ino, this is Kankuro and Gaara. They're the friends I was telling you about."

Ino attempted a smile, but Shikamaru could tell it was forced. He looked away.

"Ino, nice to meet you. Did you like the show?" Kankuro immediately began, eyes eager.

"Yes, I did," she answered flatly.

"Which song did you like the most?" Kankuro pressed on.

Shikamaru silently wished he would shut up.

Ino didn't miss a beat.

"The one about the ocean. It was . . . intriguing."

Kankuro seemed to take her words to heart, nodding quickly.

Gaara, observant as ever, stood and clapped his brother on the shoulder.

"We should start packing up," he prompted in a deep voice.

Kankuro impatiently nodded.

"Right." Kankuro glanced at Shikamaru and shrugged a silent what-can-you-do.

Shikamaru understood.

"I'll email you these after I make prints, alright?" Shikamaru confirmed, holding up the camera.

"Okay. Nice seeing you, Shikamaru. Say hello to that sister of ours when you see her."

* * *

"Are all of your jobs like that?"

Shikamaru glanced at Ino.

They were in a park, quietly sitting on a bench as Shikamaru perused the pictures he'd taken from the concert.

"That wasn't a job. That was a favor. But, no, they aren't all like that."

Ino waited a few minutes before asking another question.

"What do you usually take pictures of? That you get paid for?"

"More specific subjects, like public figures or landmarks," answered Shikamaru, beginning to pack away his camera.

"Do you take pictures of models?"

Shikamaru lowered his eyes, thinking.

"Not very often," he replied. "Like I said, I like to work with candid pictures. Models work in advertisements and showcases. I don't like to cover that kind of stuff."

"Why?"

Shikamaru hesitated.

"Because I prefer people, not shells of people."

Shikamaru regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. He couldn't have been more hurtful if he had slapped her.

He withdrew a cigarette from its carton and placed it in his mouth, searching for his lighter in his jacket pockets.

Ino wordlessly shifted and outstretched her slim hand. Her thin fingers alighted on the cigarette and gently released it from Shikamaru's lips.

She gingerly snapped it in two in her lap. She brushed off the debris left behind. They fluttered to the ground like withered flower petals.

"I am not a person," she whispered. "I am a nothing."

* * *

_Review, please._

_:)_


	7. Eet

_I hope all of you had a fantastic start to June. :)_

WolvesKey: _You captured it to the T. :)_

Drea1284: _Yes, she does. :)_

Gothic Queen: _Hahaha. Good question, but unfortunately I won't be answering that until next chapter. ;D_

anonymous: _Thank you. I liked it, personally._

EmoPrincess21: _Thanks! :)_

jinxed72: _Thanks very much!_

Nightmarish Dreams: _Thank you very much! :D You make me sound a whole lot better than I actually am! ;) Oh, his photographs of Ino are just beginning, trust me._

neji's goddess: _Hahah. I'm glad you do!_

mangaanime: _I actually really dislike the Shikamaru/Temari pairing, but unfortunately I am having to write some of it for the story. Bear with me?_

One Person: _Hahah! :D_

KukiRew: _Alright. :)_

**Song:** Eet - Regina Spektor.

**Disclaimer:** Kishimoto owns all.

* * *

_Sept._

Shikamaru quietly perused the developed prints, taking a short puff from his cigarette.

He wasn't picky when it came to his own work, but he was impossibly choosy concerning his pending exhibition.

He'd been playing with the idea for many months now, but his indecisiveness kept him from unveiling any of his work.

The collection he had now—the collection that was close to one hundred photos—was still lacking some entity Shikamaru wasn't sure of. This particular content had halted all production of the exhibition, and as long as Shikamaru didn't have it, it was likely to stay that way.

Shikamaru sniffed, taking several of the prints and setting them in a manila folder with the rest to wait.

He leaned his palms on the counter and closed his eyes, sighing.

He was a lot more tired than he had a right to be, but that didn't stop him from feeling exhaustion.

Suddenly, Shikamaru opened his eyes again, his attention focusing on prints that were from the latest batch off his camera.

They were the ones he'd taken of Ino that day he'd seen her at the Seine, waiting at the crosswalk.

Shikamaru had decided to print them in black and white, though he didn't need visual aid to recall Ino's blonde hair or the dark suede of her winter coat.

He bit the inside of his cheek, then reached for the folder again, quickly inserting the photos of Ino inside.

He put the manila folder in its drawer before he could change his mind.

* * *

If Ino thought she could get away with it, she would become paper.

Paper was weightless. Paper was thin. Paper could float, even fly sometimes. That was what Ino wanted.

But Ino was not paper. If anything, she was wet cardboard. Stiff, soggy, and painfully heavy.

Contrary to what other people thought, Ino did eat. She ate enough to survive, just not enough to live.

A cracker here, some vegetables there. Small portions for a small girl.

The hunger, after a while, became bearable to live with.

There were the cramps, the rumblings, the pains. Ino could live with these, even ignore them for the most part. She could suffer through them with an expressionless countenance, and give in to them, just a little, when she knew they threatened her consciousness.

It was an art form that she had personally perfected.

If they gave awards for such accomplishments, she would surely receive one.

The only problem was that Ino knew her own body was her worst betrayer. Her own body was eating her alive.

Ino let it.

* * *

Temari was due a week before Christmas, but before she arrived, Shikamaru took Ino to another of his local places in Paris.

The location was little more than a coffeehouse run by a rambunctious Irish family that called Shikamaru by name.

"You must come here a lot," Ino commented once they settled down in a booth.

Shikamaru shrugged, noncommittal as usual.

"It's a good place to relax and think. It's hard to think in Paris with all that action around."

He sipped his coffee from the bright-colored mug given to him, and tugged out a carton of cigarettes from the breast pocket of his coat.

Ino took a short draw from the tea she'd ordered. It was hot, steaming from the cup.

"You really should quit, you know," Ino said softly.

Shikamaru frowned and met her gaze.

"You don't have to nag," he replied after a second. "My girlfriend bugs me enough about it. Which is bullshit because she smokes too."

Ino swallowed. Her throat was dry, like scratchy sandpaper.

"Your girlfriend? Why haven't I met her yet?"

Shikamaru leaned hard on the table, blowing smoke out into the dim coffeehouse.

"She's studying abroad."

"Oh. Where?"

"England. At Oxford."

Ino whistled low.

"That's a good school," she murmured, impressed.

"Yeah. She likes to rub it in my face that she's book smart. I say she's just a smart ass."

Ino smiled faintly.

She caught Shikamaru's smirk before it disappeared.

"What's her name? What's she like?"

Shikamaru paused, inhaling on his cigarette.

All of his movements were slow, like a turtle. Ino thought it was odd for a twenty year old to move so slow.

"Temari. She's stubborn . . . and pushy. Like a pitbull, but female."

Ino considered this, putting together a mental picture.

"She sounds nice," Ino complimented.

"You wouldn't say that if you met her. She has a tendency to piss people off. Standoffish and all that."

Ino frowned and brushed back a piece of hair that had fallen past where she'd placed it behind her ear.

After a moment, Shikamaru rasped, "What about you? Boyfriend?"

Ino glanced at him to see him looking at her, curious.

"No. I—I don't have a lot of time. . ."

Shikamaru nodded, as if he understood.

"Besides, I doubt many would want to date me anyway. I forget to call people back, and when I'm not working I'm trying to sleep."

"That's not true," Shikamaru contradicted impassively after a second of thought.

"What isn't?" Ino inquired, already forgetting what she'd said.

"The part about not many wanting to date you. Who wouldn't want to? I mean, sure, you have your problems, but who doesn't? And you're beautiful; I mean, you're a model for Pete's sake."

Ino's eyebrows furrowed.

"I don't feel very beautiful," she responded before she could stop herself.

Shikamaru looked back at her, analyzing her features.

He pushed back from the table, stretching his arms out across the seat.

"You know, Ino, there a lot of people in this world that consider flaws to be useless and just what they are at skin level: flaws. But there are just as many people in the world that consider flaws to be examples of perfection wrapped up in a bunch of ugly."

Ino stared at him.

"I don't know what the hell you just said, but it makes sense somehow," she muttered, shaking her head.

Shikamaru smiled, a genuine smile that Ino knew by sight was as rare as a blue moon.

* * *

_Réexaminer, s'il vous plaît._

_:)_


	8. Is There A Ghost

_Hi, guys. :)_

_This chapter is a bit longer than usual, so rejoice. :D_

jackeyyy: _Hahaha, thanks! :D_

mangaanime: _Yes, I realize it was a tad confusing. XD Sorry about that. Thanks for the review!_

KukiRew: _You smell right. ;) Thank you._

Drea1284: _Oh, you will see this chapter. D:_

Gothic Queen: _Thank you very much. :)_

Nightmarish Dreams: _Oh, I'm not a fan of Temari either, but I had to write her in this fic to add some more to the meat of the story. It'll work for the better, I promise. Just bear with me for a while. :)_

DolceNana: _Thanks! :D_

**Song:** Is There A Ghost - Band of Horses.

**Disclaimer:** I wrote the words. The characters belong to Masashi Kishimoto.

* * *

_Huit._

Ino carefully exited the fourth designer's office for that day.

Paris's Fashion Week wasn't for another month, but modeling jobs flew fast in the fashion capital. Ino knew she would have to work fast if she was going to walk at Fashion Week.

So far, she had been considerably lucky, bagging not one, not two, but three jobs already.

_With many more to come_, Ino thought tiredly as she walked down the street.

Her apartment wasn't far from the designer's office, so Ino walked the short distance, her high-heeled feet protesting the whole way.

When she reached the door to her apartment, Ino saw that someone had beaten her there and was waiting.

The looming and massive frame immediately gave Choji away.

Ino attempted a small smile. Her face felt frozen.

"Hey, Ino," Choji greeted, a little tentative. "Shikamaru sent me to get you."

Something lightened in Ino's chest.

"For what?" she asked.

"Christmas party. Everybody's going to be there tonight," Choji informed.

"Alright," Ino said, thinking. "Where is it? The restaurant—?"

Choji shook his head.

"No, Shikamaru's apartment. That's why he sent me here to get you so you wouldn't get lost."

Hesitantly, Ino asked, "He couldn't do it himself?"

Choji chuckled.

"Unfortunately not. Temari's kept him pretty occupied. . ."

_Oh_, Ino remembered suddenly. _Right. His girlfriend._

Choji politely waited outside Ino's apartment as she quickly changed her blouse and slipped into more comfortable shoes.

"Ready to go?" he prompted when she opened the door.

Ino nodded.

* * *

Shikamaru's apartment was a four-flight walk-up in downtown Paris.

It was clear the area was a center for _artistes_ and _fleurir talent_ who were waiting for their 'big break', so to speak.

There were at least four serenading guitar players within a block radius of each other.

Ino managed a small, tight smile.

It sounded like they were birds fighting for the ears of everyone around them.

"Shikamaru hates it," Choji said suddenly, seeing Ino's reaction to the players.

"Why doesn't he move then?" Ino inquired as they started up the first section of stairs.

"Because of the location, and it's impossibly cheap."

"What do you mean, the location?"

Choji grunted as they turned to the second flight.

"Well, it's perfect for Shikamaru to take pictures. He told you about his project, right?"

Ino shook her head.

"He's been planning his first exhibition for a year or two now. Almost close to being finished too."

"An exhibition?" Ino prompted.

"It's like a showcase of Shikamaru's photography."

Ino mulled this over as Choji led her down a poorly lit hallway to what she assumed was Shikamaru's apartment.

Choji rapped one large hand on the door.

On the other side, there was a loud thunk, as if something had fallen, and then a disgusted voice sigh, "Naruto, lose some of the enthusiasm. It's such a drag."

The door opened and revealed Shikamaru, the previous speaker.

He smiled a little when he met Ino's eyes.

"Hey," he greeted.

Ino held up a hand in reply, strangely shy.

"Well, come on in. Everybody's here already."

Choji nodded at his friend and walked past, into the apartment.

Shikamaru closed the door behind Ino and looked at her.

"I see Choji got you here in one piece."

"Yes. He said you hate the singers outside."

Shikamaru rolled his eyes.

"One of these days I'll call the cops on them for loitering."

Ino took a second to look around the small entryway.

The walls were white and devoid of any ornamentation.

"For a photographer, you lack a lot of photos," Ino commented, swivelling her blue eyes back to him.

Shikamaru smirked and grasped her wrist, leading her further into the apartment.

The next room was a living room, quaint in size and with the same white paint.

However, this room was covered with pictures.

Most were in clean black frames.

Ino leaned in to a set of four photographs on the nearest wall.

They were consecutive pictures of Neji, TenTen, Naruto, and Choji.

"Those were taken down at the restaurant," Shikamaru said over Ino's shoulder.

Ino was a little stunned.

All four were in black-in-white.

One was of just TenTen, her brown eyes wide as she reacted to something someone off camera had just said. Another was of she and Neji; TenTen was sitting on Neji's lap, focused on the conversation. Neji was staring at her, the corner of his mouth lifted a little. The two other photos featured one of Naruto, staring down at a bowl of soup with a contemplative disposition; the other of Choji laughing boisterously aloud, his hand stretched across his belly.

Ino caught herself smiling just looking at them.

"These are good," she murmured to Shikamaru.

He shrugged, noncommital.

"They're not my best, but I like them," he replied shortly.

"Shikamaru?" called a husky voice from behind.

Ino and Shikamaru turned to face the newcomer.

"Dinner's ready," finished the woman before them, her dark, critical eyes studying Ino carefully.

"Ino, this is my girlfriend, Temari Sabaku. Temari, this is Ino," Shikamaru introduced flatly, gesturing between the two women.

Ino accepted the nod Temari sent her with a quiet 'Nice to meet you'.

Finished sizing Ino up, Temari slid her dark green eyes to Shikamaru.

"Right, dinner," Shikamaru muttered, starting forward.

Temari turned and led the way to the dining room.

Ino silently considered Shikamaru's girlfriend. She was a solidly-built person, with broad shoulders and sharp facial features. Her hair was a dull, sandy blonde, and she gave off the standoffish air Shikamaru had warned her of before.

Ino entered the dining room, wary of the visitor.

The usual suspects were in attendance, looking cheery and in good health.

TenTen even hugged Ino, a sentiment she wasn't accustomed to. Luckily, Neji sensed her discomfort and dislodged his girlfriend before she could suffocate the smaller girl.

Ino sat next to Naruto, who was wearing a festive sweater featuring _Père Noël_.

When he caught Ino staring at it, he said jubilantly, "Your friend Sakura gave it to me for Christmas!"

Ino raised her eyebrows, which was about as much response as she could muster.

"Naruto, shut up," Shikamaru said, coming in from the kitchen carrying a tray of roast which he set in the middle of the table.

Temari appeared, carrying a bottle of wine, which she poured into each glass on the table.

"This isn't the expensive kind, right?" Naruto asked, looking down in the glass.

Temari rolled her eyes.

"Why, is cheap wine the only kind that you drink?" she retorted, sitting at a place beside Choji.

"Only kind I can afford," Naruto corrected, sipping the drink with a consternated expression.

Choji chuckled.

"Naruto, it's reasons like that why we can't take you anywhere in public," commented TenTen, shaking her head.

Shikamaru served everyone while the banter continued.

At Ino's place, he hesitated before placing smaller portions on her plate.

No one seemed to notice that Ino's plate held about half as much as everyone else's. All except a pair of dark, watchful eyes.

* * *

"So, Ino, what do you do?" Temari inquired as everyone chattered.

Ino pushed a piece of broccoli around her plate, avoiding it, like every other morsel present.

"I'm a model," she replied, wincing at how weak her voice sounded compared to Temari's strong and sure one.

Temari did not release Ino from her penetrating gaze.

"Really? That's interesting. Tell me, what do you think of the crisis?"

Ino's forehead wrinkled.

"What crisis?"

Temari airily picked up her wine glass.

"You know," Temari casually insisted. "The body image crisis. Models who exemplify their thinness to young girls. The rate for anorexia and bulimics have skyrocketed."

Ino's mouth was dry.

She nervously sipped some wine, but it didn't help.

Her skin felt uncomfortably itchy under the weight of Temari's stare.

"I—I don't—!"

"So, Temari, how's Oxford?" TenTen interjected quickly, interrupting Ino's feeble attempt at defense.

The conversation, for now, was deterred.

But Ino had an inkling that Temari wasn't through with her just yet.

As soon as dinner was concluded, Ino excused herself from the party, apologizing weakly to Shikamaru.

Shikamaru didn't blame her; he knew what the cause of her early defection was. Or rather, who.

* * *

As soon as everyone left Shikamaru's apartment, he turned to Temari, ready to argue.

"Do you want to explain to me why you attacked her like that?" he asked, staring harshly at his girlfriend.

Temari blinked and looked up from the magazine she was perusing.

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

Shikamaru crossed his arms.

"What you said to Ino at dinner. About models and body image? What the hell was that, Temari?"

Temari narrowed her eyes and shirked the magazine aside, standing up to face him.

"What? It was a simple question. Besides, considering she's obviously underweight I assumed she'd have something to say on the matter."

Shikamaru glared at her, shaking his head slightly.

"She's sick," murmured Shikamaru lowly.

Temari scoffed.

"Shikamaru, when did you become so naive? Starving yourself is a choice. She's not sick. She's selfish."

Anger boiled in Shikamaru's veins. He looked at Temari, seriously wondering if this was the person he'd spent the last few years loving.

Temari blinked, frowning.

She moved forward, taking Shikamaru's clenched hand.

"Come on, Shikamaru. Don't be mad."

Shikamaru shook off her grip, shaking his head as he went out to the small balcony attached to his apartment.

He produced a cigarette and lit it, taking a sharp inhale before tiredly exhaling the smoke out over the city.

Temari came out behind him a second later, leaning on the rail next to him.

"Have you given any thought to my proposal?" she asked softly after several long minutes.

Shikamaru pursed his lips, shaking the ashes off his cigarette.

"Yes," he said blankly.

Temari raised an eyebrow.

"Well?"

"I don't know, Temari."

Temari wasn't entirely surprised. Shikamaru was nothing if not evasive.

"I'm sure you could find work there," she attempted. "A paper would probably hire you. And you could even take some classes at the university, if you wanted."

Shikamaru listened, already well versed in her sales pitch.

"But Oxford is nothing like Paris," Shikamaru stated. "Paris has more opportunities. You know that. Besides, all of my exhibition work has been done here. I can't just showcase it in an entire different city. It wouldn't be the same."

"Why not?" pressed Temari, her impatience shining through.

Shikamaru shook his head.

"You don't understand. Photography is supposed to tell a story or an emotion. And my emotions and my work and my story is still here. In Paris."

Temari blinked.

"So, you're saying no," she concluded.

Shikamaru stared out across the streets and low-lying houses.

"No, I'm saying not right now," Shikamaru finally declared.

Temari sighed, her shoulders sagging a little.

"Well," she ultimately said, "I can't say I'm not a little disappointed."

Shikamaru remained silent, taking another drag of his cigarette.

"Shikamaru."

Shikamaru glanced at Temari, a little unsettled by her tone.

"What are you doing with that model?"

Shikamaru rolled his eyes.

"I'm not sleeping with her, Temari. Damn."

Temari bit her lip.

"Then why are you hanging out with her?"

"I'm her friend, okay? Now, will you just stop?" Shikamaru deflected sharply.

Temari waspishly considered the lit-up city.

"You like her. I can tell."

Shikamaru angrily stubbed his cigarette on the railing and cast it out onto the street below.

"I told you. She's my friend, all right? Stop trying to act jealous. You're not very good at it."

Temari snorted at his insult.

"Fine," she relented coldly. "I'm tired anyway."

She meandered back into the apartment.

A few moments later, Shikamaru heard her start the shower in the single bathroom.

He crossed his arms defiantly, frowning deeply at the black sky.

* * *

_Review, please._


	9. Satellite Heart

_Bonjour, mes amis. :)_

DolceNana: _Thank you for your review. :)_

mangaanime: _No, I don't have enough energy to throw in a guy for Ino at this point in the fic. Sorry. :)_

jinxed72: _I did too. When I wrote them I laughed. ;D Thanks for the review._

Nightmarish Dreams: _Yes, it does. :D Yeah, this chapter's a bit fast as well. Thanks!_

KukiRew: _Thank you. :)_

Gothic Queen: _I don't either. It pains me to write her. ;)_

**Song:** Satellite Heart - Anya Manna.

**Disclaimer:** Please credit all work to Masashi Kishimoto.

* * *

_Neuf._

Christmas passed with little acknowledgment in Ino's world.

She did not have much use for the holiday now that her parents were on an entire separate continent, and Shikamaru was still entertaining Temari.

Ino spent Christmas Day watching the white snow outside, considering it with vapid eyes.

It was just another day from her lifeless perspective.

Another cold day in Paris.

* * *

New Years was marked by a marginal difference.

"Ino, we are going to a party," was the greeting Ino received upon answering her phone midday, December 31st.

Ino chewed on her lip, bemused.

"Who is this?"

The girl on the other line scoffed, seemingly offended.

"Sakura! Sakura Haruno?"

"Oh, right," Ino said hastily to appease the other girl.

She faintly remembered the awful sweater the girl had gotten Naruto for Christmas. The corners of her mouth lifted in an almost-smile.

"Anyway, we are going to the hottest New Years party in Paris tonight. So wear something awesome and I'll come get you tonight, okay?"

"Alright," Ino ceded tentatively.

She wasn't in the mood to attempt to be sociable, but she hardly felt like coming up with an excuse that would appease Sakura either.

* * *

Several hours later Sakura knocked on Ino's door, dressed in a sparkly black dress.

"Are you excited? I can't believe the year is over already!" Sakura gushed as they made their way to the party.

Ino smiled politely and nodded, her mind far away.

True to Sakura's word, the party they arrived at certainly seemed to be the hub of New Years celebrations in Paris.

"Who owns this place?" Ino inquired as they rode up in the elevator, pop music playing out of the speakers.

"Some rich guy and his wife. His wife's a model, actually. That's how you and I got invited."

Sakura nodded at Ino knowingly, as if this was a big secret.

The elevator doors opened to reveal party-goers in full regalia.

A large crystal chandelier set into the ceiling caught Ino's eye. It glittered with twinkly prisms of light that bathed the room in gold dust.

Mystified, Ino let Sakura pull her further into the crowded room.

"You want anything to drink?" Sakura practically shouted.

Ino shook her head, breaking her gaze from the chandelier to consider the assembled crowd.

It was a varying group, old and young, vivacious and crass.

Ino didn't recognize any of the faces.

Suddenly, the air was too hot.

Ino glanced around for a window. Instead she was awarded with the view of a large section of glass windows, which gave way to a large veranda.

Ino moved tentatively outside, slipping past bodies and conversations like an invisible phantom.

She slid the door to the veranda open, thankful for the cold air.

Ino sucked in deep breaths, feeling the chill freeze in her lungs.

Her eyes burned with the sting of the temperature.

She walked carefully to the railing that encircled the veranda, hooking her feet into the crosspieces in the metalwork.

She clung to the rail, noting its sturdiness.

The lights of the city shined brighter tonight for some reason.

The wind howled a little louder, stifling any hope of hearing the party behind.

Which was why when he spoke, Ino understood why she hadn't heard him approach.

"What are you doing?"

She could imagine him in her mind's eye; hair pulled back from his face as usual, shaking excess off his cigarette, some ending on the tips of his Converses.

"I wanted to see the city better," she replied, though she wasn't sure he heard her with the wind blowing so hard.

More silence, save for the cars below honking at each other.

"Come down. I have somewhere better."

Ino sighed, but obliged, her feet slipping out of the makeshift rungs.

"Where are we going to go?"

"You'll see."

Ino frowned again, but followed Shikamaru back through the party.

"What are you doing here anyway?" Ino asked him as they rode down the elevator to the ground floor.

"I had to deliver this portrait I did of that man's wife. He's giving it to her for an anniversary present."

"Oh. How did you know I was going to be at the party?"

Shikamaru shook his head.

"I didn't. I just saw you making a beeline for the balcony and thought I'd say hello. I haven't seen you around as much since Temari got here."

They exited the building and Shikamaru led her to his moped across the street.

"Where is Temari?" Ino asked as she fastened the passenger helmet.

"At home. She had to write some paper or something for a class that's due when she gets back to Oxford. I told her I wouldn't be gone too long, not that she'd care."

This last sentence left Shikamaru's mouth with a bitter tone. Ino looked down at the ground, feeling like an intruder.

Shikamaru smiled and reached out for her hand, lightly tugging to persuade her on the motorbike.

"Sorry. I've been a little cranky these past few days."

Ino shook her head, getting on the bike behind him.

Shikamaru revved the moped and pulled out into traffic, Ino clinging to him with cold fingers.

* * *

"The Eiffel Tower?" Ino questioned, staring up at the great iron structure.

Shikamaru hid his grin at her expression.

"Yeah. Symbol of Paris. It's the best place to see the city."

Ino blinked, awed by the grand size of the marvel.

Shikamaru released a laugh and grabbed her hand, leading her to the elevator.

"The designer that created this tower also built the Statue of Liberty in New York," Shikamaru murmured as they rode up the lift to the top.

Ino released a small smile.

"I've been there before," she told. "My dad took me when I was really little."

"How's the Lady Liberty look compared to the Iron Woman?" Shikamaru inquired, his dark eyes unusually animated.

Ino paused before she answered.

"I think this one has more character," she replied.

Shikamaru smirked.

The lift doors opened to reveal the third level, which was crowded with visitors, despite the freezing temperature.

Still holding her hand, Shikamaru moved forward to the edge.

He pulled Ino into one of the corners of the tower, where there were less people.

Ino looked out over Paris, mesmerized.

It was beautiful.

She could see practically the whole city, lit up and sparkling, like the chandelier in the rich man's house.

Shikamaru watched her study the view, keeping his dark eyes on her face.

"Pretty, isn't it?" he murmured.

Ino nodded, unable to look away.

Shikamaru cocked his head, slipping his hand into his jacket pocket and producing a small, throwaway camera.

The moment he snapped the picture, fireworks exploded above, signaling the celebration of the new year.

Shikamaru glanced at the camera, a little disappointed he wouldn't know how it looked until he developed the film.

"Ino?"

Ino was still drinking in the sight below, slightly shaking her head at the beauty of it.

"Hm?" she answered, not paying attention.

"What Temari said at dinner the other night wasn't fair. And I'm sorry."

Ino tore her eyes from the panorama and met Shikamaru's penetrating gaze.

His expression was slightly troubled.

She blinked, trying to understand.

"It's not your fault," she muttered softly, looking at her hands. "It's not your fault that I . . . do this to m—myself."

Shikamaru frowned.

"Why do you do it, Ino?" he responded lowly.

She shook her head.

"You wouldn't understand," she brushed off.

"Try me," replied Shikamaru firmly.

Ino swallowed, leaning into the railing of the great structure.

Shikamaru instinctively wrapped his hands around her waist.

When Ino sent him a look, he stated steadily, "I'm not taking any chances."

Shikamaru waited patiently for Ino to speak, examining her profile.

"This isn't the first time I've done it," she whispered, so quiet that Shikamaru had to lean in to catch her words. "The first time was when I was fifteen. I began to see my body differently. I had just experienced the last of my growth spurts, and it made my body disproportionate. I was ugly. And fat. I couldn't look at myself without being disgusted. So I started dieting, and eventually just stopped eating altogether. I was pleased with the results for a while, but it wasn't long before I hated myself again. My parents noticed when I fainted at a photo shoot. The paramedics told them I was underweight, and that they should commit me to a treatment center. So they did."

Ino's forehead furrowed, remembering.

"I did everything they said at that stupid center. I ate and obeyed and did everything they told me. But the voices didn't go away. They released me after I was at normal weight again, but I wasn't cured. Far from it. I was worse."

She shook her head, bruised.

"My parents never understood what happened. I think they blame themselves a little for it. But I can't help it. It's like—like my body and mind are conspiring against me and they won't stop until I'm dead."

Ino pressed her lips together, feeling tears threaten to fall.

She felt Shikamaru tuck some of her hair behind her ear, blown free from the wind.

"Are you tired of your body and those voices owning you, Ino?"

The voices in her head pushed against the front of her brain, all screaming words of dissent at this spiky-haired, interfering man.

Ino clenched her jaw, willing herself to speak against the voices that wanted her dead.

Shikamaru, sensing her distress, cupped her cheek and turned her head to face him.

Her blue eyes were wide, unbearable vulnerability betraying her struggle.

"I'll help you," he promised, feeling everything in him yearn to comfort her. "I'll help you if you'll let me."

Ino gave no sign of agreement, but Shikamaru leaned forward to kiss her cheek anyway.

Around them came shouts of exclamation and choruses of _Nouvel An heureux_.

Shikamaru smiled.

"A new year, Ino. Endless possibilities," he spoke, eyes happy.

Ino nodded numbly.

Inside, her chest swelled at the promise.

* * *

_Review._


	10. Sunday Best

_Sorry for the long time not updating. I got a little off-track with what I was doing with the storyline._

_Considering that, this chapter is pretty much just filler between 8 and 9, and consequently, it isn't my best. Apologies for that, by the way._

_Also, from now on, to save time and space, I will now only be replying to reviews by email. If you don't get an email, it's probably because you said something like "Update soon!" or "OMG, I love this chapter!". Those types of reviews I won't be replying to. But thanks, as always, for reviewing._

**Song:** Sunday Best – Augustana.

**Disclaimer:** All characters belong to M. Kishimoto. I do not own, and I do not make bank.

* * *

_Dix._

Ino found it unbearable sometimes how Shikamaru's eyes followed her.

He did it subtlety, his face portraying his usual bored expression. His eyes though always held some degree of interest, some spark of active intelligence that always seemed to follow her around when she was in the room.

It was unnerving.

Ino glared at him from across the table, in a particularly irritable mood.

She had finally finished up her interviews for Fashion Week and was booked solid. As pleased as she was with the business, Ino still felt discomfited.

Shikamaru knew her secret, and though initially she'd felt relieved, it now felt like an irrepressible burden.

Across from her, Shikamaru cocked his head at her.

"What?" he asked flatly.

Ino shook her head, breaking eye contact.

Shikamaru's searching eyes filtered over her person like a probe. Ino felt exposed.

"How's Temari?" she inquired, attempting to get his focus off of her.

"Fine," Shikamaru responded shortly. "She's getting ready to head back to Oxford."

"When does she leave?"

"Few days," Shikamaru sighed, leaning back in his chair, directing his gaze to the street outside the window.

"Are you ready to see her go?"

Shikamaru's irises returned to her. He raised an eyebrow.

"What kind of question is that?" he retorted.

Ino shrugged, looking down at her hands.

Ino failed to see it, but Shikamaru smiled.

* * *

"Damn."

Shikamaru surveyed the photo he had just developed, watching as the picture developed.

Shikamaru shook his head slightly, mesmerized.

Ino hadn't known he was taking the picture. He'd been on his way to meet her when he saw her standing a few feet down the street.

Something in the sky had captured her attention, and her head was tilted up. A deep frown was in the middle of settling itself on her lips, her blue eyes varying between vague comprehension and concern. Her hair was down, the wind making it billow slightly.

Shikamaru whistled lowly, shaking his head again.

He was about to reach out to fix the way the picture hung on the line as it dried, but Temari knocked on the darkroom door.

Slightly annoyed, Shikamaru told her he'd be out in a minute.

* * *

Ino fell into her bed, exhausted.

Preparing for Fashion Week had the capacity to wipe insomnia from her bones, but Ino wasn't sure how long the effects would last.

Blindly Ino searched by touch for her phone, finding it buried inside her purse.

Ino blurrily surveyed the screen, punching the number to call up her voicemail.

She had two messages.

The first was from her mother, her worried voice just checking in to see how she was. Ino deleted it without much contemplation.

The second was from Shikamaru.

_"Hey, Ino, it's Shikamaru. I just wanted to see if you were busy. . . Stupid question I guess with all of that Fashion Week stuff. If you get the chance in the next few days to call or drop by. . . Well, you know where I live. So, bye."_

Ino sighed and closed her eyes, pressing the button to replay the message.

The sound of Shikamaru's voice echoed in Ino's ears and nudged her into sleep.

* * *

"Well."

Shikamaru's mouth slanted downward. He hated climaxes.

Temari glanced around the airport, as if searching for something to say.

Her gaze sharply returned to Shikamaru.

"I've been thinking. . ." she began.

Shikamaru raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

"About what?" he prompted.

"Maybe we could take our relationship to the next level. . ."

Shikamaru stared at her, wondering why his heart had stopped all of a sudden.

Temari took a breath, holding Shikamaru's gaze.

She blindly found his hand and squeezed it.

"I'm tired of this long-distance thing, Shikamaru. When we met, we were only in the same city for six months before I moved to Oxford. We've been dating for three years. . . I'm ready to take us seriously.

"I want us to get engaged and live in Oxford together."

Shikamaru felt his gut sink to his feet.

"I don't want to have this discussion in an airport," he told her. "Why didn't you bring this up earlier?"

Temari scoffed.

"Like I could! The entire time I was here you were either in that damn darkroom with your beloved photographs, or out with your friends!"

"I invited you along, Temari," Shikamaru retorted. "But you said you had to work on all of your school stuff. I thought you came here to see me, not do schoolwork."

Temari rolled her eyes.

"Oh, don't pin this on me, Shikamaru. You're always off in your own little world! You never pay attention to me when I'm here! It's either your stupid photos or your friends or that anorexic little—!"

"Don't talk about her," Shikamaru said softly, his tone dangerous.

Temari scowled unpleasantly and withdrew her hand from Shikamaru.

"I've got to get to the gate. Think about what I said."

She turned on her heel, too angry to even kiss him goodbye.

* * *

As the days to Paris Fashion Week drew nearer, Ino's insomnia returned, losing her more sleep than usual.

She had no free time for eating, much less grooming, and stress exuded out of her in waves.

For all intents and purposes, her soul had been sold to the fashion underworld.

Ino was sitting in a chair, receiving instructions about what she would be wearing for a runway show when Shikamaru called.

She quietly answered.

_"Hey."_

"Hi," Ino replied, nodding at the stylist.

_"I was just calling because I haven't seen or talked to you in a few days. . ."_

"I'm sorry," Ino said, sounding truly remorseful. "I've been preparing for Fashion Week."

_"I figured,"_ Shikamaru replied, sounding decidedly grumpy about the inconvenience. _"Speaking of that, guess what?"_

"What?"

_"I got hired to photograph a few shows for some magazines. Have you heard of Lutz and Yves Saint—!"_(1)

"Yves Saint Laurent? You're photographing that show?"

Shikamaru slowly replied, _"Yes. Why? Is that one a big deal or something?"_

Ino almost smiled at his ignorance.

"Yes. YSL is a fashion powerhouse."

_"Are you doing any of those shows?"_

"I'll be at the one for YSL."

_"Good. I finally get to see what you do for a living."_

Ino flushed a little.

"It's not that special. You won't get to see the craziness behind the production."

_"What, are there models wrestling each other over shoes or something?"_

Ino let a chuckle escape her lips.

"You're so naïve, Shikamaru," she responded.

On his end, Shikamaru grinned.

* * *

(1) Lutz and YSL are actual fashion companies who were both featured at Paris Fashion Week 2011. You can view photos of their clothes from Fashion Week 2011 online.

_Next chapter: Fashion Week._

_I'm really excited about chapter eleven. :D_

_Please review._


	11. High Horses

_And here is chapter eleven, when things start to get really dicey. Just to inform you all, there will probably only be two chapters left. Maybe one. . . We'll see._

**Song:** High Horses – The Swell Season.

**Disclaimer:** All characters belong to Masashi Kishimoto. I make no profit from writing this, and I am not associated with Kishimoto or Viz Media.

* * *

_Onze._

Ino glared at the stairs, silently cursing them.

Shikamaru really needed to move somewhere with an elevator.

Ino was drained. Over the course of the last few days, Ino had been in and out of fashion offices, submitting herself to last minute fittings and hair consultants.

Tomorrow began the nine day event of Paris Fashion Week.

Tonight was the last free night she'd have for at least a week, and Shikamaru had coaxed her over.

Ino checked her phone for a second.

It was late—almost midnight.

A regretful thought passed through Ino's head. She should be at her apartment, trying to sleep. She would have to be up in the early morning hours tomorrow, and she couldn't afford to oversleep.

Ino almost scoffed.

Since when had she ever overslept?

She would be fine, Ino convinced herself as she slowly began to climb the stairs. Besides, she probably wouldn't get much sleep at all anyway.

Her professional side warned she shouldn't stay long. Softly, Ino agreed. She would exchange hellos with Shikamaru, stay for a few minutes, and then head home to rest.

By the time she reached Shikamaru's apartment, four flights of stairs later, she was out of breath and exhausted.

She knocked weakly on the door, wiping her forehead of sweat.

The door opened a moment later, and Shikamaru ran his gaze over her ragged features.

"Your building really needs an elevator," Ino flatly suggested, moving inside when Shikamaru moved the door wider.

Shikamaru rolled his eyes.

"Everyone says that, but they wouldn't have to live here during the construction," he retorted.

Ino tiredly sat down in the living room, admiring Shikamaru's photographs of his friends on the wall.

Shikamaru leaned against the hallway entrance, watching her.

"You ready for tomorrow?"

Ino sighed.

"I guess. I'm just ready to get it over with."

Ino glanced at him, letting her gaze linger.

"What have you been doing? We haven't seen each other much lately."

Shikamaru ran a hand through his hair, casting a quick look at the framed photos on the walls.

"I've just been working on putting together the exhibition. It's almost finished."

Ino smiled.

"That's exciting," she commented. "Can I see it?"

Shikamaru paused, studying her expression.

Slowly, he replied, "I won't show you all of them, but I'll let you see some."

Ino nodded agreeably.

Shikamaru gestured for her to follow him.

"Here," Shikamaru muttered, leading Ino into the darkroom.

It was pitch black in the small room until Shikamaru turned on a small light that gave off a deep orange glow.

Ino looked around, astonished.

Photographs, color, black and white, sepia, were plastered all over the place. Every inch of wall space was covered with photographs ranging in sizes from 35mm filmstrips to large glossy sheets.

Shikamaru took down a single photo from a clothesline strung up over his worktable.

Ino looked at it over his shoulder, astonished.

It was a picture of Temari, much to Ino's surprise.

To Ino's trained eye, she could tell that Temari knew the picture was being taken, though she was determinedly not looking at the camera.

It was on a balcony, one that looked suspiciously similar to Shikamaru's own. The sun was behind Temari, and it must have been late afternoon, since the scene was bathed in amber gold.

She was looking past the camera, her dark eyes focused on the street, a cigarette dangling from her fingers.

Ino looked at Shikamaru, who was waiting for her reaction.

"This is. . . Shikamaru, it's so good," she sincerely expressed.

Ino stared at him, stunned at how dark his eyes were in the dim light.

Shikamaru looked back at the photo, thoughtful. Deep in Ino's chest, she felt something, watching him stare at his life's work with such concern.

This particular feeling came to a halt as she recalled Temari.

"Did Temari already go back to Oxford?"

Shikamaru nodded passively.

"Yeah. She left a few days ago."

"Sad to see her go?" Ino queried.

Shikamaru tore his eyes from the picture, his expression controlled as usual.

"Not really," he replied flatly.

Ino sent him a questioning look, but Shikamaru just turned the light off and led her out of the darkroom.

Ino blinked several times before regaining her vision.

Shikamaru was already heading towards the balcony, pulling his pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket.

Ino followed after him, wary.

Shikamaru rolled an unlit cigarette between his thumb and forefinger, as if he was contemplating whether to smoke it or not.

He began when Ino leaned on the railing beside him, "She's been bugging me to move to England with her for a couple months now. When she came to visit, she was expecting me to give in and go back with her. But, I don't want to move anywhere. I like France, even though some of the people are snobby and it has the worst drivers on the planet. Besides, what would I do in Oxford? Walk her to class and then just sit around afterwards? That wouldn't satisfy me."

Ino was silent, unsure of what she should say.

Shikamaru went on, "My friends are here. My exhibition work is here. I can't just pack up and leave."

Ino opened her mouth and said, "I don't want you to go. You—you steady me."

As the words left her mouth, Ino was embarrassed. Her cheeks flamed red and she looked away from Shikamaru so he wouldn't see.

Smiling to himself, Shikamaru looked down, surveying the cars below with interest.

"It's late, Ino. Do—do you wanna stay so you don't have to go all the way home?"

Ino looked at him, wide-eyed.

She stammered, "N—no, that's okay—!"

"Ino."

"Really, Shikamaru, I'm not even sleepy."

Shikamaru frowned.

"I would feel better if you would stay," he said, dark eyes serious. "You can have my bed. I'll sleep on the couch."

Ino began to shake her head, but Shikamaru wasn't having it.

He grasped her hand and pulled her back into his apartment, leading her to his bedroom.

Ino protested the whole way, but Shikamaru finally silenced her with a look that read he wasn't letting her leave, no matter what she said.

Shikamaru went to the adjoining bathroom and closed the door. A second later, Ino heard the shower going.

She sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, looking at her hands.

If she wanted, she could make a run for it now while Shikamaru was occupied, but Ino shook her head. She had a feeling if she bailed, Shikamaru would be extremely disappointed.

Ino tentatively lied down on top of the comforter, facing away from the bathroom.

Shikamaru's entire wall facing the street was glass. Outside, Ino could see that it was dark, but the headlights of cars and shops made it seem lighter.

Slowly, Ino felt her eyes droop closed.

* * *

Paris during Paris Fashion Week was a hub of activity.

The next morning, it took Ino forever to get a cab, and even then, traffic was atrocious.

Predictably, she was late getting to Place Vendôme, where the Harry Halim show was being held at(1).

The designer was crossing the threshold to madness when Ino walked in, looking sheepish.

"Finally!" the designer exclaimed, ushering Ino into hair and make-up, a half-crazed look in his eyes.

Ino relaxed when she sat down in the chair, letting the make-up and hair stylists recreate her face.

Some hours later, Ino was standing in the lineup, wearing a black dress, adorned with elbow-length black gloves(2). Ino looked down. The furry heels they'd placed her in made her feel ridiculous.

"Ino," whispered the designer.

Ino moved forward and let him assess her before she emerged onto the catwalk.

Ino had never walked Paris Fashion Week before, but she had in New York, and it was much the same, show-wise.

The catwalk was long, and Ino kept her eyes forward as she strolled down the aisle, her expression flat.

She reached the end of the walk, letting herself be blinded for a few seconds by the photographers before she turned back, heading for the dressing area once more to await the final walk.

* * *

"Where's Ino tonight?" Choji asked Shikamaru as they received their food.

Shikamaru sighed, reaching for his water.

"She has a fashion show tonight. Like every other night this week."

Choji raised his eyebrows at Shikamaru's flat tone.

"Disappointed?" prompted Choji.

Shikamaru met his friend's eyes and shrugged, noncommittal.

"I'm pretty much done with the photos I'm putting in the exhibition," Shikamaru said, effectually changing the subject.

"Really? You want me to get to work on finding the space to debut it?"

Shikamaru nodded.

"Are you happy that you're done? That's a lot of work you've done on it."

"Yeah. I mean, up until a few months ago I felt like something was just missing from it, but then I met Ino. . ."

Choji couldn't help but smile.

"Are you saying she was a source of inspiration, Shikamaru?"

Shikamaru rolled his eyes.

"Don't be ridiculous. Everyone I know is an inspiration."

Choji continued to smile, his cheeks red with cheerfulness.

"Is Temari coming back for the unveiling?"

Shikamaru gave a vague jerk of his head.

"We had a fight, right before she got on the plane."

"About what?" Choji asked.

"She still felt the need to pressure me to move to Oxford with her. I think she's jealous of Ino or something, because she wasn't this insistent before I started hanging out with her."

Choji considered his friend.

"Don't get mad, but it _is_ pretty obvious that you like her—to me, at least. And you and I both know that Temari's more perceptive than she looks."

Shikamaru didn't answer, choosing to stare down at his plate.

"You can't help who you like, Shikamaru. And long-distance relationships are hard, especially when there are trust issues."

"I wouldn't cheat on Temari," Shikamaru murmured, flashing a dark eye to Choji's face.

"I know that, but I'm sure Temari can't help but wonder with Ino around, especially since she doesn't know her."

Shikamaru mulled this over, fiddling with his silverware.

"Temari said that we should get engaged."

Choji almost dropped his fork.

"What? Why didn't you mention this first?"

Shikamaru shrugged.

"That's pretty serious."

"You think?" Shikamaru retorted sarcastically, perching an eyebrow. "The kicker is that she said it in an airport, five minutes before she left."

Choji let out a low whistle.

"What do you think?"

Shikamaru stared at Choji, dark eyes dull.

"I'm barely twenty, Choji. Are you crazy?"

"There are plenty of people who get married young," Choji defended half-heartedly.

Sternly, Shikamaru replied, "I am _not_ getting married."

Choji fixed Shikamaru with a kind stare.

"Then I guess Temari has her answer, huh?"

* * *

Ino tried to quell the uneasy feeling in her stomach.

It was the night of the YSL show, the one Shikamaru would be photographing.

The entire week, Ino had had less time to take care of herself, and consequently, she couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten anything to sustain her body from revolting against her.

Ino stared at her reflection as she sat getting her hair done for the show, memorizing her features.

Her eyes bulged from their sockets, the skin around her skull and neck pulled tight. Ino could see her cheek bones and her jaw, clearly distinct and defined over papery thin skin.

Her wrists were disgustingly knobby. She could map the veins in her arms all the way to her fingertips; Ino saw them visibly jump every time her heart shuddered out a palpitation.

The clothes she was dressed in—a stunning white jumpsuit—did not cling to her body like it did the other models(3). Clothes had long since stopped clinging to her figure.

The closer time drew to the start of the show, Ino felt increasingly off.

Her hands were shaking, and she was sweaty, though she was cold.

Blurrily, Ino felt herself ushered in line behind other models, though she barely registered it. Her head was spinning.

Distantly, she felt an arm lead her forward, and Ino stepped up onto the catwalk.

All she saw was bright, white light. Everything else was fuzzy at the edges, and Ino was too tired to try and focus.

She wasn't sure where the end of the catwalk was, and she did not want to fall, so she did her best to calculate the distance from the other catwalks she'd walked that week.

Ino reached the end in a blur, feeling like she'd left her body several paces behind. She paused, and then began the long walk back.

The nearer she got to backstage, the more Ino felt sluggish and lethargic.

_Am I even moving?_ she wondered.

She slipped from the crowd's view and forgot there were steps to lead down into the backstage area.

Ino collapsed, her sight fading, along with her pulse.

* * *

To say that Shikamaru was bored by the YSL show was an understatement.

He had dutifully taken pictures of every article of clothing that made its debut down the runway, but truthfully, the only highlight of the show so far had been seeing Ino.

The make-up disguised the gauntness of her face, but nothing could hide her slight mass of skin and bone.

A chill ran down Shikamaru's spine when she appeared, but he ignored it as he snapped pictures.

As soon as she emerged, she was gone, another model replacing her.

Minutes later, when the finale began, something in his gut dropped. All of the models were coming out in a line and Ino was not among them.

Shikamaru hesitated for no longer than a second before darting for the backstage.

It was mayhem.

People were rushing around, hysterical, and in the midst of it all, Ino was lying down on the floor, her eyes closed.

Shikamaru crossed the distance from her in strides and knelt beside her, finding her wrist.

Her pulse was barely there, slow and fluttering.

"Call an ambulance," Shikamaru called out.

Shikamaru breathed heavily and leaned down closer to her, keeping a firm grip on her wrist.

"Stay with me, Ino," he encouraged softly, pressing his free hand to her head. He closed his eyes for a brief second and pressed his lips to her temple. "Stay with me."

* * *

(1) Two notes on this: Place Vendôme is a square in Paris. It was where 2011 Paris Fashion Week was held. Additionally, Harry Halim (Harryhalim) is a designer who featured at 2011 PFW. You can view photos of the collection he debuted there online.

(2) This is my description of an actual Harry Halim dress debuted during PFW 2011.

(3) This is also my description of an actual YSL jumpsuit that debuted during PFW 2011.

_:) Review please._


	12. Breathe In, Breathe Out

_Hello all._

_Heads up-Next chapter is probably the last._

_:)_

_Also, thanks so much for 100 reviews. You guys are amazing._

**Song:** Breathe In, Breathe Out – Mat Kearney

* * *

_Douze._

"Relationship?"

"I'm her friend."

The nurse eyed Shikamaru.

"Do you have her insurance information?"

"No."

The nurse frowned.

"If you don't have her insurance—"

"Listen," Shikamaru interrupted edgily, "she moved to Paris only a few months ago. Her parents are back in the States. What do you want me to do?"

The nurse looked back to her counter, shuffling some papers.

"Nothing. Since you don't know any of her information, you can go."

Shikamaru's brow furrowed, and he gripped the partition with clenched fingers.

"I'm not leaving," he replied unreservedly.

The nurse fixed him with a flat stare.

"Then go sit somewhere where you can't bother me."

Shikamaru pushed off the counter, angry. He threw himself down in a waiting room chair where he could still view the nurse's counter.

Close to an hour before, Ino had been admitted into the hospital. Unfortunately, Shikamaru had no way of knowing what was going on with her. The hospital wouldn't tell him anything.

Disjointedly, Shikamaru pulled out his phone and made a call.

_"Hello?"_

"TenTen, it's Shikamaru. I need a favor."

_"Sure thing. What is it?"_

Shikamaru sighed and shrugged off his jacket.

"Ino collapsed at one of her shows. I'm at the hospital now."

There was a pause on the other line.

_"Oh, my gosh. Is she okay?"_

"I don't know. No one will tell me anything. Anyway, I need you to do something for me."

_"Do I need to come down there?"_

"No. I need you to call this place for me. It's called _Maison Paisible_."(1)

Shikamaru heard the scratch of a pen as she wrote down the name.

_"Okay. Sure. What do you want me to do?"_

"Just give them my number and tell them to call."

_"Alright. . . Shikamaru, what are you going to do?"_

Shikamaru rubbed a hand over his face.

"I don't know yet. I'll let you know when I figure that out."

* * *

The first thing Ino noticed when she woke up was how absolutely dry her mouth was. It was unbearable; like her tongue had dissipated into the Sahara in the few hours or so she'd been out.

One glance around and Ino knew she was in the hospital. There was an IV stuck in her arm that pinched a little even at the tiny movements she made.

Her last conscious moments were a blur to her that Ino couldn't seem to sort out in her mind—she was so tired.

She closed her eyes and felt relief.

* * *

When she woke up for real, Ino's mouth still felt dry.

There was a nurse present in her room, consulting a chart as she read one of the large machines next to Ino's bed.

Her eyes alighted on Ino, and she said, "_Bonjour. Comment vous sentez-vous_?"(2)

"_Bien_," Ino answered.(3)

She attempted to sit up, but her head felt too heavy. Ino collapsed back onto her pillow, thoroughly exhausted.

"Your friend has been persistent," the nurse commented in French, tapping the chart. "He called your parents. They're on their way here now."

Ino blinked several times.

"My parents are coming to France?"

"Yes. They should be here by tonight, at the latest."

Ino shook her head.

"Why are they coming? I'm fine. I just passed out—"

Ino stopped at the look the nurse was giving her, a mixed expression of disbelief and pity.

"It's a little more than that actually," the nurse responded delicately. "I'll send your friend in, now that you're awake and coherent."

Ino blanched momentarily, certain that she looked as awful as she felt.

She ran a hand through her hair, disgusted by its stringiness, and quickly twisted it into a bun.

True to her word, the nurse let Shikamaru in moments later.

Ino studied him, flushing a little in embarrassment.

He looked worn out; there were dark rings under his eyes and his skin looked pasty.

"Hi," Ino murmured drily.

Shikamaru wordlessly grabbed a cup off of a portable cart and poured her some water from a pitcher.

Ino drank slowly, watching Shikamaru's eyes carefully.

When she was finished, she muttered, "The nurse said my parents were coming to Paris?"

Shikamaru nodded silently.

"Why?" Ino asked.

Shikamaru stared at her, his brown eyes strangely fiery.

Flatly but edgily, Shikamaru replied, "You collapsed at the show. When I got backstage, you barely had a pulse. How could you not expect me to tell your parents?"

"Shikamaru, I just passed out. I'm fine—"

Shikamaru closed his eyes suddenly, as if summoning patience.

"Ino, I said I would help you, and I'm going to, as long as your parents agree with my choice. There's a rehab center outside of Paris—they can help you."

For some reason Ino did not understand, this news upset her.

"I'm not crazy," she snapped weakly.

Shikamaru sighed.

"I never said you were, but this is too much for me. I can't help you by myself. I thought I could, but I can't. Your body—what you're doing—you're killing yourself, and it's only sheer luck that you're alive right now. The doctor said that your body is too weak to hold your organs the way they should be right now. The hospital can only do so much. This place that I found, they deal with stuff like this on a regular basis. They can help you so much more than I ever could."

Ino felt tears come to her eyes.

"You're abandoning me," she accused throatily.

Shikamaru immediately moved to her side, shaking his head. He surrounded her, one arm lying beside her head, the other clutching her frail arm.

"I'll never do that," he said seriously.

Ino blushed, ashamed she'd even voiced such an impossibility.

Ino stared up at Shikamaru's eyes. She could see now, the pain and the worry hidden in the depths of his dark irises.

"Why did you do all this for me?" she questioned softly, her breath hitting him in the face.

Shikamaru briefly closed his eyes.

When he opened them, the pain and worry had been replaced with pleasure and happiness. Ino watched as a smirk formed at the corner of his mouth.

He answered, "Because I love you, idiot."

* * *

Honestly, Ino was less than thrilled to be released into her parent's custody.

Ever since they'd arrived in France they'd hardly spoken three words to her, other than, "Are you alright?" and "Ino, we were so worried."

Her mother seemed forever teary and on the edge of a nervous breakdown, whilst her father remained tight-lipped and pale, all angles.

Ino felt guilty for worrying them.

Upon their arrival in the hospital, her parents had laid out her options.

"Ino," her father had introduced, "you're coming back to New York with us when you're released."

Ino was immediately indignant.

"I'm not leaving Paris," she flatly retorted, weakly shifting to fix her father with a steady gaze.

"We've decided it's the best thing, Ino," responded her father tiredly.

"I'm not leaving," Ino reiterated.

From the corner chair, Ino's mother said softly, "What about what her friend said, Inoichi?"

"What about it?" Inoichi replied.

Ino's mother cocked her head at him, imploring with her eyes.

"What?" Ino asked.

Her mother broke her gaze with Ino's father and looked at her daughter, eyes sad.

"Your friend—that boy—he said there was a place outside of Paris that treated these kinds of things. He gave us the information when he called us."

Ino felt her heart swell a little. Shikamaru continued to go out of his way to do everything he could to help her.

"I want to go there," Ino decided firmly.

"Ino—," began Inoichi, ready to argue.

From the corner, Ino's mother sent him a silencing glare.

"Dad, I'm not leaving Paris. It might seem like to you that being here hasn't helped me at all, but it has. I have friends and people I care about. I don't want to leave, and you can't make me."

Inoichi's expression darkened as he ruminated over his daughter's firm words. He sent a glance to his wife and raised a single eyebrow.

She nodded once.

With that, all the fight left Inoichi's body. He slumped to sit on the edge of the chair beside Ino's mother. Inoichi eyed Ino with identical blue irises.

"You can stay," he said grudgingly, "but if you fail the program here, you _will_ come home. Understand?"

Ino nodded.

Inoichi bowed his head, his hair falling into his eyes.

Wordlessly, Ino's mother rubbed his back in comfort.

Ino closed her eyes. She had never meant her life to cause such grief.

* * *

_Maison Paisible_ was around two hours outside of Paris in the region of Picardy, in a town called Laon.

After being released from the hospital, Ino exerted most of her regained strength on getting her parents to leave the country.

"I'll be fine. Trust me," Ino said countless times.

They insisted, however, to at least stay long enough to escort Ino to the treatment center, after which they would get back on a plane and return to the States.

Ino sourly allowed them to accompany her, wishing a certain pineapple headed boy had been there in their stead.

But she understood why he wasn't.

Shikamaru was intensely busy. Following his photos at Fashion Week, he had been receiving more and more freelance jobs. Not to mention, he was finishing up his personal work for his showcase.

On the phone one night, as Shikamaru was on his way to fulfill an assignment and during Ino's allotted hour to use the phone at the treatment center, they talked.

"How is it coming?" Ino inquired, relishing the sounds she could hear through Shikamaru's end of the phone.

_"Alright, I guess. Choji came through on the space, so that's all set up. TenTen and everyone else are doing me huge favors by getting the word out. I mean, I tell people when I can, but all of these jobs are keeping me on the run."_

Ino felt sad; she hadn't seen him since the day she'd been discharged from the hospital.

"I miss you," she murmured, immediately biting her tongue afterwards.

Shikamaru let his husky chuckle fall through the phone line.

_"I miss you too. How's the treatment going?"_

Ino sighed, but was truthful in her answer, "It's hard. They're trying to alter the way I view myself, and that's hard for me to cooperate with. And we have to eat everything they put in front of us."

Ino shook her head.

"I don't know if I can do this, Shikamaru."

Shikamaru was silent for a moment on his end, but when he spoke again, his tone was fervent.

_"You can. You have to. It's either do this, or die, Ino, and I'll be damned if you don't do something to help yourself."_

Ino's vision grew blurry as tears swam in her eyes.

_"I have faith in you,"_ Shikamaru finished firmly.

Ino nodded, adopting his words.

"Promise you won't have your showcase without me?" Ino prompted.

Even through the phone, Ino could detect his smile as he responded, _"Idiot, how could I ever do it without you?"_

* * *

(1) "Peaceful House". And yes, I made it up, because I couldn't locate any actual facilities over the Internet.

(2) "Hello. How are you feeling?"

(3) "Okay."

_Review, s'il vous plait._


	13. All Yours

_Last chapter! :)_

_I'm in the middle with how it came out, but in the end, I think it turned out alright._

_Thank you again to all of the amazing people, readers and reviewers alike, on this site. This fic was intended to be a one-shot, but as you all know, it turned out to be thirteen chapters. Couldn't have done it without your consistent encouragement and faithfulness. :D So, THANK YOU!_

******Song:** Eclipse (All Yours) – Metric

**Disclaimer:** M. Kishimoto owns all characters. The plot is my own.

* * *

_Treize._

Ino felt like she had been in hibernation, and she had only now just left her cave to experience spring. She was returning to herself.

"The key to overcoming is letting go of the control. Let things happen. Allow yourself to forfeit the control and just live. Just be," her psychiatrist frequently reiterated during their weekly sessions.

Ino was surviving _Maison Paisible_. It was by no means easy, changing the way you thought about yourself. But Ino was learning day by day that it was possible.

She had met other people with the same problems. They played a dual role in her recovery: the encouragers and the relapsers. But they all had their bad days. Ino didn't blame them.

Her parents called her every Friday to check up on her and her progress. They missed her a lot, and the feeling was mutual.

Ino felt herself shaking off the frost that had coated her insides for so long. She was warming up the closer she approached the fire, however uncomfortable and terrifying it left her feeling.

* * *

Shikamaru sighed and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.

He was intently focused on the computer screen in front of him. A slideshow of the works he would be displaying at his exhibition was playing.

Shikamaru was finished. His exhibition pieces were complete, the space was rented, the invites had been sent. Everything was set.

Shikamaru closed his eyes briefly, exhausted. He'd done nothing but work these past few months, and the weights he'd been carrying on his shoulders slowly slid off.

Lazily, Shikamaru opened an eye and scanned the calendar over his desk.

The twenty-fourth of May was circled in black ink.

Shikamaru smiled to himself.

As he was preparing to leave his work for the night, Shikamaru heard his front door open.

His forehead creased in confusion, and he cautiously got up to investigate.

He turned his head towards the living room after seeing no one in the hall.

A figure sat on his couch, legs crossed.

Shikamaru couldn't be more surprised.

"What are you doing here?" he murmured.

Temari slowly turned her head to look at him.

"I need to talk to you," she replied.

Shikamaru blinked and shuffled further into the room.

"You could have called me," Shikamaru said, sitting across from her. "I would have come and picked you up at the airport if I had known you were coming."

Temari just shook her head and replied, "A cab was easier."

Shikamaru raised his eyebrows.

"Why are you here? It's the middle of semester. . ."

"This was important," Temari clarified. She fixed her steely eyes on Shikamaru's confused ones. "I was angry with you when I got back to Oxford and . . . and I did something stupid."

Shikamaru remained steadfast in his expression.

Temari sighed heavily. Shikamaru noticed her fingers tapping impatiently on her leg. She was craving a cigarette.

Temari focused on the window and the balcony outside as she spoke, too prideful even in her shame to look at him.

"I got back to Oxford and went back to class as usual. My professor went on sabbatical, so he left his TA in charge. I asked him for help on a few things. . ." Temari paused, eyes distant. "I slept with him, Shikamaru. I thought it was just a fling, and that I was blowing off steam and jealousy, but it turned into something more than that."

Shikamaru stared at her, feeling his insides deflate.

Temari's fingers clenched.

"I'm sorry, Shikamaru," she said softly.

Shikamaru knew she was being sincere. He covered his face with one hand.

"Troublesome woman," he muttered.

"I thought that you were going behind my back with Ino. I felt like I had to retaliate," Temari responded.

Shikamaru peeked at her through his fingers.

"Idiot woman, I told you—!"

"I've seen the way you look at her, Shikamaru," Temari cut him off, her voice quiet. "It's the way you used to look at me, a really long time ago."

Shikamaru stayed silent.

"I don't hate you for it," Temari clarified. "I mean, you and I both know that I have my faults. I don't exactly deserve your forgiveness, especially now."

They sat in the dark living room for a while. Shikamaru eventually unearthed his cigarettes and gestured to Temari, walking out onto the balcony.

After they lighted up, it was several moments before Shikamaru murmured, "So, is this it?"

Temari exhaled smoke.

"Yes," she said decisively.

Shikamaru nodded, feeling a cruel sort of peace wash over his body.

Before Temari left, Shikamaru pressed a kiss to her cheek and paid for her cab fare back to the airport.

Shikamaru stood out on the balcony a long time after Temari left. It hurt a bit, but the pain wasn't unbearable.

* * *

Shikamaru was scheduled to pick her up at noon.

Ino glanced at the clock for the third time in the past minute, itchy.

She stood and analyzed her reflection in the small mirror in her room.

The center had a strict policy to put weight on its patients dealing with eating disorders. Ino had walked in a frail eighty-seven pounds and now she was leaving a slightly heavier one-o-two.

Her nutritionist had assured her the gross feeling Ino was having was normal for someone with an eating disorder.

That morning, as she had been getting ready, Ino had decided to leave her hair down. It had gained back some of its healthiness and shine, and made her face not seem as sallow as before.

Ino hoped Shikamaru would like it.

* * *

A little before noon, Ino was paged to the front of the building.

She slowly walked to the foyer, her stomach bubbling in nervousness.

Ino saw him before he saw her.

She noticed that he had lost a few pounds. _Has he really been working that hard?_ Ino wondered. His hair was disheveled. Ino wondered if he'd ridden his motorbike out here instead of taking a cab.

Shikamaru was focused on the woman at the counter, who was having him sign in as a guest.

Ino felt her feet walking faster.

Shikamaru put down the pen and slid the clipboard back to the woman, letting his eyes wander around.

He stopped when he saw Ino, now speeding towards him involuntarily.

A rare, slow smile spread across his mouth. His brown eyes lit up, and Ino felt like her heart might just stop from the pressure.

Ino finally reached him, colliding into him.

His arms wrapped tight around her. Ino buried her face in Shikamaru's neck and closed her eyes, overcome by his presence.

Shikamaru chuckled a little.

"You look amazing," he said into her ear.

Ino felt shivers descend down her spine.

They stood there a long time, bathed in the sunlight from the foyer windows.

* * *

Ino once again glanced at herself in the mirror, slightly self-conscious.

Tonight was Shikamaru's exhibition and Ino was planning to look her best.

_Nearly twenty pounds heavier_, her eating disorder remarked.

Ino recited softly the five compliments she had committed to say to herself every time her eating disorder thoughts flared up.

Ino closed her eyes and summoned confidence.

_I am healthy. I am pretty. I am intelligent. I am strong. I am special._

She opened her eyes and tucked a piece of blonde hair behind her ear.

She had chosen to wear a little white dress that accentuated the bone structure of her shoulders and neck. Ino knew it looked great on her. She hoped Shikamaru would like it.

After leaving _Maison Paisible_, Shikamaru had informed Ino of Temari and their expired relationship. Ino hadn't had much to say about the matter. If Shikamaru was happy with the arrangement, then she was as well.

As Ino slipped into her shoes, she wondered (not for the first time) if Shikamaru had feelings for her and if he did, would he ever act on them.

Ino grimaced and grabbed her purse.

* * *

Shikamaru's venue was at the Magnum Gallery in the heart of Paris.(1)

Ino stepped through the doors and looked around.

The place was crowded, which Ino assumed was good news for Shikamaru.

He was standing close to the entryway, his back to her as he discussed something with Choji.

Choji nodded, scanning the area, and Shikamaru turned, forehead creased.

Their eyes met and Ino watched Shikamaru run his eyes all over her.

"Damn," he said.

Choji heard him and turned to look at Ino. Amused, Choji raised an eyebrow at her and smiled.

Shikamaru recovered and grasped Ino's hand.

"Come on. I'll walk you through."

Ino thought she detected Choji waggling his eyebrows suggestively at Shikamaru, but she ignored it.

Shikamaru led her around the corner of the entrance and into his exhibition.

The pictures started in black and white, and they featured the traditional monuments and landscapes at first.

"This is all old stuff," Shikamaru spoke privately to Ino, still clutching her hand.

"It's beautiful, Shikamaru."

Shikamaru nodded his thanks, replying, "I think you'll like my later stuff more."

He continued to lead her through the winding path of the exhibition.

About halfway through, as they were entering the portraits of people, Ino noticed some familiar faces.

TenTen beamed and threw her arms around her, almost crushing Ino with the force of her hug.

"Let her breathe, TenTen," Neji remarked from behind her.

TenTen pulled back and grinned at Ino, overcome with joy to see her.

"It's so great to see you!" the brunette gushed.

"It's good to see you too. I missed you guys a lot," Ino responded, spotting Naruto's blonde head behind her. He was boisterously explaining the meaning behind a photograph to a group of women, who looked slightly amused.

"You look great," TenTen complimented.

Ino smiled back.

TenTen commented to Shikamaru, "Shikamaru! I can't believe you put photos of us in your exhibition! I don't remember you asking our permission!"

Shikamaru shrugged carelessly.

"Too late now," Neji muttered.

TenTen amended, "They are really good pictures though."

Shikamaru smiled wryly.

"Thanks." He reached for Ino's hand again. "I'm going to show her the rest. We'll see you guys later."

Ino waved as Shikamaru pulled her away.

* * *

Ino noticed as they drew closer to the end that the pictures on the walls got more and more familiar. There were several pictures on the walls that matched the ones hanging in Shikamaru's living room. The picture of Temari was there, along with the group shot of TenTen, Neji, and Choji, and Naruto at their favorite restaurant. They were all here. Every aspect of Shikamaru's life was on display here. His heart was here.

Slowly, Shikamaru guided her to a particular section.

Ino was surprised to see her own face staring back at her.

She glanced at Shikamaru, shocked.

"I hope you don't mind," he murmured, eyes carefully judging her expression. "I couldn't help myself."

Ino looked back at the arrangement.

The first photograph was one she hadn't known had been taken. It was in black and white, and Ino was crossing a crosswalk. Her body aligned perfectly as she stepped off the curb and onto the street. Ino looked at the others. There was the one with the fireworks behind her that Shikamaru had taken with the throwaway camera. It was slightly blurry, but she could see her familiar, defined bone structure in the poor quality of the camera. Another one was of her walking down the street, eyes focused on the sky, her hair flowing behind her in the wind.

Ino shook her head in amazement.

Shikamaru squeezed her hand and turned her towards the last wall.

It was a single picture of her, larger in size than the others.

Ino felt her knuckles grow tight as she gripped Shikamaru's hand.

"That one's my favorite," Shikamaru shared confidentially.

Ino could see why.

It was another candid, but Ino knew exactly by intuition when he had taken this photograph. It was the night she had fallen asleep in his room after Shikamaru's insistence that she stay at his apartment.

In the picture, it was dawn, the soft colors sprouting rosily outside the glass windows behind Ino's head. She was sleeping peacefully.

Ino noted the slight imperfections of herself. The dark half-moons under her eyes were apparent, and her hair was mussed. The impression of the fabric of the sheets was on her cheek.

Still, Ino loved it.

She felt tears bud in her eyes.

"This is amazing," she whispered to Shikamaru.

"You like it?" he prompted, watching her.

Ino nodded, gazing at him.

Shikamaru smiled and dropped her hand. He knotted his fingers in her hair, stepping closer. Shikamaru kissed her, with all of the warmth and feeling and care he had within him.

Ino's psychiatrist's words came back to her at that moment, and Ino felt complete knowing what they meant.

_Let things happen. Allow yourself to forfeit the control and just live._

_Just be._

* * *

(1) The Magnum Gallery is an actual space that features photographers' exhibitions.

_Let me know what you thought._

_Thanks again, as always. :) - KNO_


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